Poor Monty. Poor Daisy.
We have walked past the Bowls Club in the park, and they have been cooking sausages on the barbecue.
"Daisy, help me get their attention, and try to look hungry."
"Bark, bark, bark."
"There's someone coming this way.... oh no, they've gone straight past."
"I'll guess I'll just starve to death here, without sausages, or snacks, or chop bones ..."
*grumble grumble* "Nobody loves me, nobody feeds me."
Poor Monty. Come home and I will make you a hot dinner.
Si the DogBlogger.