'ello Baxter here again.
I have been asked, or rather told to take a stint at writing our news second day running. To be honest I'm rather peeved at the whole prospect as there are more important things I could be doing like tripping Funky over in the dark or outside sniffing at voles holes. You know all sorts of terrier antics rather than sat here paw pounding this contraption.

As I type Funky is in a right state, lying there with a packet of frozen peas strapped to his head. He is muttering something about a Sadman Ooohsane's family being offered a state military send off by the French and how 1,600,000 British and Commonwealth soldiers giving their lives in two world wars to save their sorry French asses! Geez-o-Pete now he's muttering something about pandering and kow-towing to terriers or something? I should be so lucky, all I will be lucky to get is a presucked rotten old bone. Why do humans always assume we dogs prefer the scraps? I can tell you now a good fillet steak would go down really well right now. In fact it wouldn't even touch the sides.

Oh, movement from the death bed! The mighty on has risen says he's off for his annual shower It must be because an old flame will be here on Tuesday, I bet we get the full Funky grooming routine, Gawd! While I remember. I just have to tell you this. Well, last time This young lady visited Funky was rushed to hospital the day before. It seems he was in the bathroom putting toilet water behind his ears and the seat fell down and hurt his neck. It's true I tell you! Would Baxter tell you a fib? Anyway I bet he is more careful this time and will restrict himself to a little tap water on his hair, or a drop of sheep dip in his bath. Whatever he will end up smelling like a tarts handbag.

OK he's in the shower singing (sic) away so I'm going to beat a hasty retreat whilst the coast is clear. Look out Meece here I come. Yahoooooo!!!
Nite all,
Love from
Baxter xx