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SANY0038I’m an Angry Dog!

Monday was my birthday. And what did I get for it? A foam bath! That’s it. A foam bath!

When I was adopted, nobody actually knew my exact birth date, but the vet’s guestimate was that I was about seven weeks old, so Sissy decided that I could share my birthday with Bro. He was 35 on Monday. I turned nine.

The family made a big hoo-ha, carrying on over Facebook and Whatsapp, wishing Bro happiness and blowing him kisses. This Bro lives far away, in Cape Town, with his wife and new baby. I will tell you about them later.

Did anybody blow me kisses? Nope. I got a foam bath.

So there I was, smelling as fresh as a daisy … and no birthday celebrations. Tuesday morning the family started dressing early and I overheard Dad saying that we were going to the Walkerville Farmers Market’s Christmas function. Yes! Yes! I knew it; my birthday would be celebrated in style.

At ten o’clock, what do you think happens? – Dad looks at his watch and says: “It’s raining cats and dogs (where? I didn’t see any) and it’s too cold for Genis to go out. Old dogs (I am OLD now, am I?) are susceptible to colds and other weird illnesses”. So, we stayed home.

This morning the sun came out and we went for a stroll in the park, and then we got in the car, and then … we stopped at the vet for my weigh-in. I am happy to report that my weight has not changed one gram since two weeks ago. Serves them right! The strange thing is, nobody seems to care too much about that.

Back home Mom decided to take the car to the car wash, Sissy put a load of dirty clothes in the washer and I saw Dad taking travel bags from the top shelf. Oh! This was looking good! Maybe we were going on holiday. Then, THEN, I overheard Mom and Dad talking (by accident – I never eavesdrop, I’m a well brought up dog), and guess what? Sissy and Mom are going away for four days; they will be back on Sunday.


Everybody seems to be very excited about this trip. I heard that Ouboet (that’s Afrikaans for Eldest Bro) is coming to stay with Dad and myself and Our Cat until Mom and Sissy get back. Back from where? How should I know? Nobuddy tells me nutting.

Our Cat does not know what’s going on either. Does she ever? She obviously doesn’t care either; as long as she has her food bowl and her hot pink blanky, she’s a Happy Cat. Not that I care, I mean really, I actually only want to know what happened to my birthday celebrations.

Trust me, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I’ll keep y’all posted.

Angry Dog