…….naughtiest things! Who said pets are good for you? Therapeutic? Reduce stress levels? Excuse me whilst I splutter into my cup of tea. The Bad Fairy household is a bit of a zoo. Not a proper zoo, we don’t have a giraffe, a hippopotamus nor an elephant. (Although the jury is out on the elephant after a rather large hole appeared in the bottom field…..suspicions have been voiced that a rogue elephant may be trying to break in!) We did have some orphaned lambs that grew up to be big sheep. They were re-homed after I had to retrieve one from next door, he was mooching around the living room watching the television. Presumably he was a bit put out at having to miss the Jeremy Kyle Show because after this incident the only way I could walk through the field without being butted was if I held him in a head lock! Chickens are much easier. Except Milly. Milly thinks she’s a dog. She can frequently be found, head tucked under her wing, having a nap under the kitchen table. After being evicted she sulks and stares longingly through the window waiting for the next chance to sneak in. She comes running (you’ve never seen a chicken sprint so fast!) when she hears the dog food being served up and follows the dogs around to make sure she isn’t missing out on anything. I suppose that brings us nicely to dogs. There are three Bad Fairy dogs, all Labradors. Anden (needless to say there’s a story behind the name) and Penny are both nine. Very loyal, very gentle and generally very good. They have had their moments but have mellowed like a fine wine. And then there’s Bertie. Bertie (named because I thought he had hints of Bertie Wooster about him) is naughty. If there was a naughty corner for dogs Bertie would live in it. He just can’t help himself. He lulls you into a false sense of security by being a model dog for a few days, gazing at you with those soppy big brown eyes, resting his head in your lap and then it all gets too much for him. Nothing is safe. Bertie can open the pedal bin and will cheerfully retrieve any goodies he can find there. He’s a super-swift worktop surfer and helps himself to anything that takes his fancy, loaves of bread, cake, table mats, a bottle of Ribena and yes that last one did make a bit of a mess! Worse than all of that he dared to steal my Jaffa Cakes, slobbered on them all then ate the cardboard box. Therapeutic? Yeah right! Anyone want a dog?
