A new follower! Hurrah! Cherisong - you are very welcome here; thank you for sniffing out my trail!
Well, thus far the year seems to be proceeding well. My partner upset the equilibrium a little by going to the doctors' yesterday and getting told that her blood-presssure is "dangerously high". She has to have a load of scary tests next week. But that is beside the point. What I refer to is this afternoon's evildoing. The vacuum cleaner was unleashed in this house.
I mean, why? The house was cleaned last year. It isn't fair.
I watched crossly as my partner pushed the purple behemoth along our little hallway. My partner watched with a different expression altogether, as she found the suction powers of my nemesis to be woefully inadequate and nowhere near as strong as anticipated.. The mighty roar of the beast was stilled as my partner ushered it into our kitchen. I pretended not to watch as it was disembowelled, emptied and cleaned.
But what was this?! My partner thought she had located a mysterious blockage deep within the trachea of the accursed creature. I maintained both my vigilance and my distance as she poked and prodded at my mortal enemy, finally utilising a baby-bud to ease out the blockage that had rendered impotent the mighty Hoover.
Why - it seemed to be some kind of biscuit... If I didn't know any better, I could almost recognise it as a dog biscuit... My partner held up the freed blockage 'twixt her dewclaw and index-pad.
"That's a dog biscuit!" she exclaimed, brushing away some of the grey dust and fluff. "How on Earth did it get in there?!" Her gaze transferred from the dirty biscuit to me. "Anything you would like to comment on, Jasper?" she enquired.
I pretended that I hadn't heard - a useful strategy I have begun to employ of late. I have not perfected the posture, as my involuntary facial reactions often betray me (and, despite what people say, my partner isn't THAT stupid - she knows as well as I do that I can see and hear her with no age-related diminishment. But practice, they bark, makes perfect.)
"Good heavens!" I remarked. "Why, that looks like some kind of biscuit! However did it find its way into there? Anyone would think that someone had attempted to deliberately break our dear old cleaning machine! But only you and I are here! How mysterious...!"
"Hmmm..." muttered my partner, looking at me through narrowed eyes. She threw away the dirty biscuit and finished unblocking the machine. Once reassembled, the wretched thing roared and sucked like new and my chambers were ushered into disgusting cleanliness.
I wasn't happy. The big purple beast would NOT be allowed to crow in its triumph over me. I made a den in my armchair and barricaded myself in with cushions. I only ventured out a few minutes ago. I headed straight for my biscuit box - but a moment's consideration changed my mind. I'm not sacrificing ANOTHER biscuit to the belly of the beast. I will just have to endure clean rooms for the present.
On another topic, I accompanied my partner to the shops, following her doctors' appointment, yesterday. Waiting for her outside the pharmacists', I viewed their window arrangement of items in their Christmas sale. I was astounded by the array of "celebrity fragrances" on offer - footballers, actresses, singers, wannabes, everyone seemed to have their own perfume. My way was clear...
I, myself, am often celebrated for my pungent natural allure - fox, duck, deer - if the beast has left deposits, Jasper has rolled in them, to squeals of delight from my partner and other assorted females. And if a scabby old footballer can do it... Gentlemen of discernment - for your delectation and to increase several-hundredfold your powers of seduction - I have blended for you:
But don't fret ladies! My Scentateers are working on a female version - just in time for Valentine's Day...