Direktlänk till inlägg 7 augusti 2008
My hair grow beautifully in the summer, especially the impressive beard that I acquired sometime after my forth months of age. Each evening, when we watch telly, I have my coat brushed and my beard combed. The moustasches, which come (presumably) from heredity and my own excellent metabolism, are not only handsome features which add dignity to my appearance. They are perfect to disguise any interesting objects that one detects during out-doors excursions. Prefereably findings which, in my experience, are Loudly Forbidden. When caught at fait accompli, one then retires to a safe distance, to admire the Language of Granny, who speaks fluent Angry-Saxon on these occasions.
Last evening I sniffed around an euonymus patch behind the barn. One prefered to stay out of sight when being summoned. Granny´s cries of "Viggo" became increasingly frantic, as she imagined the very worst. When discoveded, it is wise to wag one´s tail brightly, to show that it was an Amusing Joke. I hurried indoors, bringing with me a deceased bird, or at least parts of it, well hidden in my beard. Granny was not quite delighted, and interred the remains in the wastebasket.
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