Now, let us be very clear about this. I was tortured.

I am not blaming the lovely young two-legs in the van… she was kind, compassionate, professional and exactly what you want in those horrendous circumstances.

But my two-legs? The one issuing the orders? She knows what I think about “bath”, “ears” and “toes”…

Four letter words. All of them!

Now, I know she’s been fretting about not being able to groom and walk me properly since she got poorly, and if she had really tried, maybe I could have controlled my very ticklish feet. But honestly… it never occurred to me that she would go to such awful lengths…

I should have known something was in the wind when she got my other collar out… the one she never uses since I bit my way half through it. These days, she has realised I can get out of most…