My apology to my dog.
- Hazel Butterfield
- 01 August 2016
I love my dog, she really is woman's best friend. She has got me out of many a pickle and taken the blame for some atrocious shit and yet the love is unconditional. Charley, you rock.
She has been my flatulence outlet for over a year, never do I keep it in. For this, Charley, I thank you. I also apologise for directing the blame in your direction. Some of my friends really do think you have a problem.
When my laziness takes over my OCD and I just can't be bothered tidying up - to save face, I say it's you. "Omg I only hoovered the whole house this morning, the dog hair is unbelievable, such a pain". It's not, it's a normal amount of hair when it has been left to build up for days and let's be honest, it's the cat too.
When I'm in an awkward conversation while out and about, with someone I'm not keen on chatting to (for whatever reason that may be...) You let me feign an issue with you to create an urgency to leave. Or if we're somewhere where I need a distraction from the fact that I can't remember their name, I may have disrupted your comfy stance to redirect attention toward my cute puppy by picking you up and holding you like a baby.
Never once have you given me permission to try and boost my Instagram likes by putting you in daft situations or taking pics of you when you're just trying to chill the f**k out. But you are a Beagle and I do justify this by assuming that any attention is good attention. I'm sorry but I have seen you pose.
You are my excuse to leave a night out when I don't want to admit that I just want my sofa.
We have also made you a social media tart just for mine and man-thing's gain.
Read the full article here. (No effing way, I just accidentally did it again)
But, I do let you sleep on the bed. I always share my toastie's from Costa with you. I know what temperature you prefer your bubble bath and let you taste test when I'm on a Sunday cooking binge.
I assume this makes us all good?