Now I'm  not usually one for conspiracy theories, but there is something very  weird going on.

It all  started some time ago I was doing my rounds in the kitchen, making  sure there was no fillet steak that had fallen out of the fridge,  (you live in hope!) When out of the corner of my eye, I spotted  something moving in the oven. I must say it gave me quite a fright  and I nearly jumped out of my coat.  On closer inspection I realised there was a bloody dog in the oven!  Being the security concious individual that I am, I went berserk. The  cheek of it, that's where the food comes from, if there was going to  be a dog anywhere where food is involved, it's got to be me!

I  went and told "The Man" and he just laughed, a weird reaction  when you consider that the oven was on at the time! (do they eat dogs  in the West?)

I  tried to forget about it for a couple of days, and then when I was  happily trotting up the Kings Road on my way to the Pub, I spotted  the blighter again he was inside a shop barking and being really  quite aggressive towards me. Then a few shops up the road he was  there again, I must admit he was a tenacious bugger, the more I  barked back the more he barked at me.  He must have run out of the  back door and entered the second shop from the back. Now I'm really  worried. I know Pugs are popular but this was getting ridicules.

"The  Man" and his friend thought the whole thing was hysterical, even  passers by stopped and laughed. I decided to take personal action as  nobody was taking my concerns seriously. I  hurled myself at the  interloper, forgetting in my frustration that there was a piece of  glass between us, I banged my head on the window pretty hard. But on  the bright side the phantom dog also got a good bump on his head,  judging by the dazed look on his face.

I  still see the dog from time to time but I try to rise above the  temptation of barking at it. Since "The Man" put a new bulb in  the oven, It doesn't come much any more, perhaps its scared of the  light.

The  big coward...

"The  Man" , reckons that the insurance company  wanted to write it off, some blind old Bint drove into us.  Some people should be kept in a cage or at least on their lead! He also said something about putting a bazooka on the roof, but I think he was just joking, They do say Volvo drivers are a bit aggressive, but I best not comment on that!

So now  it's out with the lovely old smelly Dog Wagon and in with the new  horrid clean new one.

I hate  it, it just isn't practical. For one thing I cant get into the back  as easily as I could the old one (the back seat is too high, I'm only little, but don't be deceived by that!). You see I need to keep law and order in the  back of the Dog Wagon, I control my guys with my iron will (I  keep a very tight ship) with this new Dog Wagon I cant jump over the seat, They can get into all sorts of mischief.

Here's  how it works. I am the boss, what I say goes!. "The Man" is the  driver and my First General. Fred (a fawn Pug) is my best mate,  I'm  training him up to be my Captain, he's doing ok, but I think he might have concentration deficit disorder. Brian is my second bezzy mate. he's a bit old, deaf and blind, so he doesn't have much sway in  things, but he's very good company. Bert (a Shih-Tzu) is in charge  of security, no one would dare come near the Dog Wagon when Bert's on  patrol, he'd have their doobries off in a snap. Then there's the Back Seat Boys,  Kobe and  Maille (both Labradors). Lego (a Norwich Terrier) Bertie (a Cocker  Spaniel) Hercules (a Shih-Tzu) and Paddy (a Spaniel). They are there  for the fun of it and don't take many things seriously, they just  have a great time and keep me on my toes!

The  second and main thing I despise about the new Dog Wagon is that I  can't hide under the front seat. You see, when it's raining (I loath  the rain) "The Man" insists that I accompany him on the 3 walks . I  have tried to explain that he can manage without me  sometimes, and I'll wait in the Dog Wagon, (delegation the first rule of business). But Oh No! He  can't cope without me (you just can't get the staff these days) so he drags me out of the Dog Wagon (the insolence of it). But if I can dive under the front seat before he catches me (snigger) I sometimes get away with it.  But with this new Dog Wagon I don't fit under the front seat and have to go on all 3 walks in the rain.

So maybe on hindsight the diet is not such a bad thing after all! But that's another story...

My next blog will be entitled "The Dog in the Oven". Spooky stuff...