Asking or Begging...

I don’t ask for much.

Two squares a day, a few treats, maybe some steak or chicken leftovers, hamburger scraps, crumbs of bread, cakes, biscuits, cheese – oh yes, cheese cheese cheese! – apple cores, grapes, plums, whatever you let fall on the floor. Some toys to chew, bones are great but ones that smell of chocolate are good, too, and bones, and rubber rings to pull and shake; did I mention bones? A bowl of fresh water; water out of rain tubs, plant pots, and puddles is tasty, too. A couple of walks a day, maybe more at weekends, long ones, to places familiar and strange; strange is exciting, but it’s nice to be on home territory and read the newspapers, to roam and sniff, and chase smells and small furry animals; to run in streams and rivers and the sea, to dig holes in the ground to see what’s there, to chew sticks and twigs; to meet fellow dogs to play with, to run and chase, and run and be chased. To be stroked and have my ears rubbed and my tummy scratched; to be brushed a couple of times a week but, gently. To be allowed to protect the house and bark at people walking down the street, and to say hello to other dogs. To have somewhere warm to lie, in front of the fire on a cold day, on a bed if no one’s in it (or even if they are, I can squeeze onto a corner so’s you’d never notice I was there), a spare chair or sofa, under a table is good, too. But most of all, to be with Rob and Barbara wherever they are, wherever they go and whatever they do.

That’s not asking too much, is it…?