Last night we went to the theatre to see a production of The Graduate. We were a bit late getting there (because of traffic and not my genetic late programming no matter what anyone says) and had to run but I couldn't. I said, 'I can only run with my right foot.'
I put that down to my peculiarity and didn't think to check but this morning I discovered that George had eaten part of my left sandal strap. My best sandals. Okay, my only comfy sandals that I've had three years and wear all summer, but that's not the point.
Excuse me a minute. 'What?'
George says he thinks he should have his own blog so he can tell his side of the story but I tell him, 'There isn't a "your side of the story"; you're just naughty.'
'I'm a puppy! What do you expect? If you leave your sandals where I can get them, I'll chew on them. But really you should be aware that I'm only doing it because they smell of you and I love you.'
'It's no good looking at me all soppy-eyed and gorgeous! It won't work. No, really, stop it!'