shame. The dog looks hang-dog at me, I look even more hang-dog back. It is a sorry state of affairs. My exquisite casseroles of a cur kind are no more. I feel a total 100% heel, not allowing my culinary cred free rein. Quietly I cry myself to sleep (fib) worrying. Himself tartly says
‘Well what’s the difference to her turning her nose up to kibble as opposed to fine dining of a canine kind?’
I hate clever sods! All the while thinking he has a point, added into the mix my scathing remarks of folk spoiling animals by pandering to their fanciful needs. A large piece of humble pie for me please.
I now await some very special food recommended by a regular reader of my blog who sadly can’t comment. Thank you Wanda for emailing me the details, the samples are on way as we speak.
This morning once again Ellie has turned her nose up and walked away.
What she doesn’t know is nobody, but nobody messes with me. I am a hard woman, cut me in half and there for all to see is...
‘MAFIA MOMMA’
like Brighton through rock.
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