Its been a torrid week. Firstly still no rain, secondly we switched dog biscuit brands with ordinary results. I keep telling the two-leggeds, dont let some shop-keeper tell you what I like. I know what I like. Ive always been a two hat dog at the least, anything under and it doesnt 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 Im worrying about sustenance, Jill has been off her food. (That would be right, pick the week when the tuckers not up to par).
At the beginning of the week it was all bells and whistles. Rodger came calling. Oh yes, you should have seen Jill then. Shed 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.
Picture this. Theres me walking into the yard after a hard day on the bike and theres 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 wasnt 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 Im not one to knock a guy for having a bit of a go, but really, two women .
Shes a manicured white thing called Camille whos visiting from Sydney. Jill hasnt met her yet, but wait until this north-west acre chaser learns about Jill and vice-versa. More importantly wait until Rodgers 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’.
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