Bad dog
I’m a bad dog. Even though I know the eye drops are for my own good, Mum cannot get anywhere with them at all. I know I should cooperate. It’s just not happening. She thought she had some chews that I could bite on while she did it, but they seem to be in storage. Mum is going to have to ring the vet today to ask if they have the gel instead of the drops. Then we’re going to have to drive an hour round trip to get it. I don’t think Mum is very happy with me. Actually, that’s an understatement. She’s not happy with me at all. She says the extra cost is going to come out of my pocket money.
In the meantime
In the meantime, my eyes are really sore, so I’m a very silly dog not letting her do it. She’s worried about me and cross with me all at the same time. It’s not even as though she had an hour to spare. I know that. It’s too late to give in gracefully and accept the eye drops as most of the bottle has now missed my eyes anyway. I should perhaps do penance, but I don’t really think that’s a dog thing.
New Tag
My new tag is now safely on my collar and I’ve officially moved. We’re not in the new house yet, that will be tomorrow, but it’s a start. We have to load the car up later today so we can take as much stuff as possible from where we are staying to the new house. Mum seems to have loads. I’ve not got so much, but I still need to make sure my things go in. The triffids are going to be the most difficult. They could do with a whole truck of their own.
Love
Wilma
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