At last I have got my mistress back. She is a bit down but otherwise she is just fine. We sat down together to try and work out who will play which character for the murder mystery dinner. I asked which one I would be, would I get a sort of a ‘hound of the Baskervilles’ type role or more of a faithful police dog. Apparently, I am going to be her personal assistant for the evening and as we are organising it we get to play ourselves. So I am Alfie Dog, personal assistant to the most important person in my world. My master gets to play the character of Bruce (Skippy) Johnson and is now threatening to try out his mock Australian accent on our real Australian neighbours. What will Matilda the cat think? I know what I think and it can’t be printed here. I have got to help my mistress with some menu suggestions and so far my thoughts were dog biscuits and marzipan and apparently at least one of those is not being served! I thought I might do some work on sound effects for the evening, I am developing a rather blood curdling howl to really freak the guests out!
Where do dogs go when they die? I have been thinking a bit about dying, what with one things and another and it struck me that heaven couldn’t be heaven if there were no dogs in it. Any human that loves their pet would think it was more of a ‘hell’ if they weren’t reunited with their trusted friends and so by definition to be ‘heaven’ there must be dogs there. I wonder what a dog has to do to go to heaven. It could be difficult if someone has had more than one dog but then I suppose the same problem arises if they have had more than one wife.