Friday, 07 April 2017

The Diary of Miss Darcy Bustle: 7 April

The Lady's office dog tells all

Written by Miss Darcy Bustle
I have been put on a diet. Again. It didn’t help that a little podgy sausage called Milo got himself stuck halfway through the garden gate and had to rescued by four burly firemen. To be honest, part of me thinks it might have been worth it but Milo’s owner did seem to get very upset. Once freed, he seemed happy, but I don’t think he’ll be allowed near the biscuit tin for a while and he has rather ruined things for the rest of us.

My neighbour Boris has turned into a bit of a bully. He wants to know why I don’t speak German – he is a German schnauzer and he only speaks in what he calls his ‘mother tongue’, or at least that’s what his owners say. But in the park he seems to speak the universal language of all other dogs, which is basically ‘sniff and snarl’. 

Today was a red-letter day. Actually, it was an all-the- colours-of-the-rainbow day because Andrea gave me a huge ham bone to chew on. The fact that she had bought something that was twice the size of my head makes her all the more wonderful. I had to hide it from Editor by dragging it into my basket – I’m still supposed to be on the Milo diet – and had to fight Kath off when she tried to come over and nab it for herself. It took me about four hours, but I managed to finish most of it, although all I could do afterwards was lay around like an upturned turtle.

My new Kath Knits sweaters have been causing quite the stir among other dogs, and today we got an email with a gorgeous picture of a coat being modelled by Lola that has made me quite green with envy. Her mummy, Rose, sent it over. I wonder if she would mind if I bought one just the same? We would have to coordinate diaries, of course, so we didn’t turn up at the same event wearing the same outfit. ‘Imagine the horror,’ as Thomas Blaikie would say.

If I lived in Bath I could become a member of the incredibly chic Sausage Dog Club, who meet to promenade every month on the vast lawns in front of the Royal Crescent. They have more than 250 members, and over the weekend they had a huge bun fight on the very grass walked on by Jane Austen – although she loved pugs so might have been a little alarmed by the invasion. This year the Royal Crescent itself is 250 years old. Perhaps I could go and say hello?

See you next week! Instagram @missdarcybustle

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