Posted by Zozo and Jools at Usual Muttwits.
Vexed, I’m very vexed ThreeLegs considers his state of mind, that place where all thoughts of noshing, eightleggers and sniffing live in a perpetual mush between the earflaps. And thinking about noshing, Threelegs’ belly reminds him he’s missing out on his brekkers at Freddy’s Farm. Bacon, well done scraps of bacon, anyways. Toast, the crusts. Sausage – burnt to perfection – and a touch of healthy kicking or a sudden wack out of nowhere from Freddy with his big stick. He is panting fast, tongue lolling. Thinking of home, starting to miss it all.
Ahh wails Threelegs, feeling lonesome I’m undeserving of such heinous exile from me pater famillias?
The orange sniff of nosh makes his snout holes flick and bubble with hunger.
Just down the street is Greggs. He can sniff the special of the day, two sausage, scrambled eggs and baked beans. Just the ticket!
But he’s reluctant to leave the PD compound.
Westley Piddle is a small town but ThreeLegs has hardly ever been here, ‘cept for whisking doggies, so is rightfully wary of the other fourlegs he can sniff all out and abouts. More warily, who can he call his bowls mates, his real snifz-friends nows that he’s all alones?
willowdot21 