Caravan

Wee Jock here....

I've been granted my own spot and given strict instructions to honour the late Mr T (whose blog this was). Therefore I did my homework and read some his most popular posts to understand what I am aiming for and decided to start with observations on humans 'cos I'm inclined to agree with some of his views that they are strange creatures.

I do have to be a bit careful however as I like pleasing humans.  Particularly the ones with dog treats (lollies) in their pockets.

F doesn't have lollies in her pockets and she says I look like a sad teddy bear - which I find insulting because 

A. I am a first class ratter, and

B. I do my best 'share your food' looks at her and she ignores me.

I'm a poor starving animal that nobody feeds.

So I'm going to dish the dirt on HER. She bought a crappy old caravan. I've inspected inside. It smells of mice (which is good if you are hunting them, bad if you sleep in there). It's interior is ugly shades of blue and brown (yes I CAN see those) and it's outside has virtually no paint left on it.  It has curtains that are sooooo long they go over the beds and are made of material that makes my fur stand up on end - so synthetic it is. 

The Boss seems to have spent most of the last two weeks fixing stuff on it for her (roof, wheels, bits that bolt on the front, a bed frame) and all SHE seems to have managed to do is shorten half the curtains. She's always messing about with glue or paint which means that the mouse smell is merely masked by strong solvents that make your eyes bleed.

The sooner they drag that thing out of the workshop and push her off down the road the better for me.  Then I can reclaim my bed in the specially built box beside the driver's seat on the forklift which should be parked there - and from where I can supervise the workshop.

How did I do? Apparently Mr T was big on supervision.