The Grim Reaper looks like he's coming round our way again. Muffy the guinea pig apparently has the look of something that isn't likely to be with us in the morning. How many is that we've lost of late, I'm losing count. Stanley the cross-dressing transsexual guinea pig seems to have kick-started some sort of trend. What is it they say, in the midst of life we are buried in an Adidas shoe box at the bottom of the garden. My only concern is will the two-leggeds be able to dig deep enough to shoehorn another one in after the lack of rain? If not we may need to resort to a funeral pyre. But if we do that we'll have all the cats in the neighbourhood round, and a few stray Patagonians too I shouldn't wonder. It's almost put me off my tea. Almost, but it was sausages. Looks like it's just me, Speedy and Gizmo left now. They're only little them two, we wont need a shoebox for them, but they're probably too big to flush down the toilet. I'll email the Co-op or June Whitfield and see if there's any special offers on for hamsters. A BOGOF I think they call it. Bury one, get one free. Something like that. I'll let you know tomorrow.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.