It’s been a torrid week. Firstly still no rain, secondly we switched dog biscuit brands with ordinary results. I keep telling the two-legged’s, don’t let some shop-keeper tell you what I like. I know what I like. I’ve always been a two hat dog at the least, anything under and it doesn’t make the grade. It also shows in performance. Well I make it show in performance. No big yellow bag, then no speedy Gonzales from me. Of course while I’m worrying about sustenance, Jill has been off her food. (That would be right, pick the week when the tuckers not up to par).

20140324_201655At the beginning of the week it was all bells and whistles. Rodger came calling. Oh yes, you should have seen Jill then. She’d been sleeping with the selfies he left behind in her kennel so when he rocked up on his day off. Yes, he actually only has a part-time gig, ‘house-boy, house dog’. She was all joy.

20140316_180809Picture this. There’s me walking into the yard after a hard day on the bike and there’s Rodger. Beach towel, tasty nibbles, chair. I was waiting for him to pull out a cold pina colada but he said he was watching his weight. P-l-e-a-s-e.

I wasn’t quite sure what the tiff was about at the time but within an hour Jill and Rodger were ‘no speakies’. A quick dash next door and the truth was revealed. Rodger has another gal. Now I’m not one to knock a guy for having a bit of a go, but really, two women….

She’s a manicured white thing called Camille who’s visiting from Sydney. Jill hasn’t met her yet, but wait until this north-west acre chaser learns about Jill and vice-versa.  More importantly wait until Rodger’s caught out.


But in the meantime I’m bracing for my next role as Agony Aunt Jack, and readying myself to share those immortal words, ‘Jill, he’s just not that into you’.