Friday, 24 February 2017

The Diary of Miss Darcy Bustle: 24 February

Written by Miss Darcy Bustle
We are doing a big special feature on Pet Health this week and for once I am being treated as a bit of an expert. If I had feathers, I might actually puff them up. As it is, I insist on being seated on two cushions on the chaise longue instead. ‘Does it matter that one third of doggies are left-handed?’ they want to know. ‘Or that cats spend 70% of their life asleep? Will that damage them?’ ‘So many questions’, I said. ‘And so few answers,' Melonie sighed.

This morning I got a letter from a five-month-old miniature schnauzer/Yorkshire terrier cross called Daisy, who lives in Priory Farm in the tiny village of Darsham in Suffolk. She says she is still coming to terms with ‘house rules’. ‘Why would you want a loo break in the wet, cold and dark outdoors when you can go discreetly behind the sofa?’, she wants to know. It is a tricky one, this, but I do know you don’t get any treats for going behind the sofa.
joe-allenLunching with the ladies

I have been thinking about my favourite day and have decided it is usually Wednesday because that’s when I help Andrea with her work – I lay on her lap and she strokes my belly while she talks to her clients. Andrea says it helps her concentrate and that I should be proud of this important work for the team. I know others don’t think that, but it’s not my fault they don’t offer to let her stroke their bellies.

Today I went to lunch at Joe Allen. I love it there. They let me doze on my blanket under the table and bring me bowls of water, while the editor natters away about things she thinks are terribly important. Kath and a lovely woman called Tina De board came too, and they had a long chat about whether they should have pudding. They’re worried about their waistlines. I’m not worried about my waistline because I get given hardly any food. But nobody will get any food soon if Robert De Niro is allowed to close Joe Allen down and turn it into a luxury hotel.

As a rare treat, I was allowed a day off so that I could go to the seaside, but since the seagulls don’t seem to like me, I get very anxious on the beach. Also, my little legs are too short and I sink in the shingle, which makes it hard for me to make a getaway. Sprite, one of the old Hastings fishermen’s dogs, said I should be more ‘butch’. She is a collie/spaniel cross who helps carry the empty lobster pots up the beach after her owner has finished unloading them. She said she could get me a couple of shifts helping her out but added that as I am only the size of an average crustacean, she didn’t fancy my chances of keeping the job. Charming.

See you next week! Instagram @missdarcybustle

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