Hello everydog. Here I am back from my travels to Gibkennelflat. We had a fine time - well, I had a fine time. We all slept on the floor together - see story below. I found my friend Marmalade - The Cat With The Green Collar - again. I met lots of friendly people who said I was nice. I am not allowed to write all of this now.
Mistress needs to buy me a computer and get Internet access there or I will not be able to communicate with all my good dogpals. (Note to self - give mistress orders about this).
Anyway, I won't start from the beginning of this trip because that will be too boring.
Quick recap, master and mistress bought the flat a few weeks ago and it was full of furniture they said they didn't want. Although the sofa was OK, IMHDO. The last time master was there he sold some chairs and took a deposit on the washing machine.
Originally they had been waiting for someone to contact them about getting rid of the furniture for free or giving it to a charity but it never happened. Mistress looked up Freecycle but it doesn't seem to exist in Gib. So she decided to try advertising on the Internet.
They advertised the double and the single bed, and the sofa bed as free to collect. They figured it was second hand and although it wasn't bad it wasn't new. And, apparently, master and mistress are not good at furniture removals together.
She would have had to find the council office and ask for the stuff to be picked up. Then, they would have had to take the furniture down one flight of stairs. Master would have barked out the orders, expecting mistress to be telepathic, she would have not understood and started laughing, he would have got very cross, she would have laughed even more, and they would narrowly have avoided heavy furniture on toes.
So master was pleased when someone rang to pick up the beds. The guy who wanted the washing machine was coming back too. Then someone rang about the sofa bed. All the large bits of furniture that they didn't want.
That's why we went down this weekend. The guy didn't ring about the washing machine. But the next day the man rang about the beds, and came to see them. When he came into the flat he said to master:
"But you are not racist."
"No," said master, puzzled. (Or at least tries not to be racist, - frequently puzzled though).
"Many people put the telephone down when they hear my voice," said Imran, who comes from Pakistan.
I did not understand this. Mistress tried to explain that some people lack respect for other people, because they come from a different country, or speak a different language, or have a different skin colour, or a different (if any) religion. Well, everydog, I had a headache, I have to say.
And then I got it. It's like me being a dog who comes from the street, isn't it? Even though I might have come from a good place before, and I might have a good pedigree, who knows? And I am a nice dog inside, so does it matter? But people think I am rubbish and no-one wants to know me. Or that there are better dogs out there. Or their fur is a nicer colour. I think that's more or less what mistress meant anyway.
These people turned up and took away all the beds, and some tacky cupboards too. Master was very pleased. They wanted the microwave and he sold it for £10. They told master he could eat at their restaurant or have a take-away.
Master thought a take-away was much more sensible as no-one wanted to leave me in a strange new flat. He said not to send too much. Mistress said, just send whatever you want, it doesn't matter what it is, it will be fine.
By this time it was late afternoon and the sofa-bed woman had not rung. Master told them to take that too if they wanted. So they did. Nobody asked me. Where was I supposed to lie, and play boundupanddown? or boundonandoff?
Pooh. Pippa on the floor.
Pippa on a grotty dustsheet - no compensation for my sofa-bed. Sulk.
Master and mistress were prepared because they had their ThermARest camping mattresses and sleeping bags. No beds, no sofa beds. Everyone on the floor.
Master and mistress had almost given up Imran and his uncle Mohamed for lost - but then they rang at nearly 10pm and asked how m&m wanted their curry cooked. They had been very busy in the restaurant. Mohamed brought the meal a few minutes later. Here is master and Mohamed and me.
The curry was very very yummy. There was enough left for breakfast too for all of us. Yummier. There was even a little bit of rice left for a separate supper meal that mistress made. Three scrummy meals.
Mistress - who clearly wants to be in charge of my blog, when her role should be purely administrative - says this is an important post. A statement or something. Another headache coming on I think.
I want to write about Marmalade, and my other "catpals" - hehe.
But no, she wants to say she thinks recycling things you don't want is better than throwing them out. If you can help someone starting out, that's very good. Whoever they are. If you get a delicious curry as a favour that is even better. They must be kind people. I must say I liked the curry for my breakfast too. Mmmmmm.
Back to travel stories tomorrow, mistress says this is too long a post already. Missed you all, catch you later, and something about mi blog en español tambien. Pipps. Hasta la proxima.
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