Another Dexter

Just when Mum and Dad thought Dexter was an unusual and quite uncommon name, Boobie reported that Dad's cousins have got a new King Charles spaniel puppy, and they've named him - guess what? - Dexter. Not after my fine friend at the NCT Mother and Baby Group though. No relation. Apparently the cousins' long-suffering cat, Fudge, has sloped off, singularly unimpressed with this new scrambling, yapping, slightly uncoordinated eight-week-old addition to the family and has taken to Hiding Upstairs Where It's Quieter.

So this afternoon, we all went round to my Great Uncle Howard and Great Aunty Karen's house, and saw cousins Maddy, Abby and Elly. Life and soul of the party that I am, I regaled everyone with my interesting narratives of Dah-Dah-Day and Yay-Dah-Dah-Day-Dee. Hah. I have a far superior ability to hold an audience than that puppy.

Actually, Dexter the puppy was quite cute, not as much as me, of course, but I was mildly interested in him and vice versa. Actually, I was eyeing up his training crate (basically a giant cage) and Dad said that if I were good he'd get me one. With lid, small lockable door and all the squeaky toys.