We're just talking a walk around the small block near the Queen's Parade shops.
"Dad. Wait for me."
Poor old Monty.
"Dad, my feet hurt."
Well I'm not going to carry you.
"Dad. Can you carry me please ?"
No way, you fat lump.
"Dad. I'm pooped."
Well rest for a minute then.
"Dad, I don't think I can walk any more."
Well you have to walk back to the car so we can go home for supper.
"Supper ? Gosh, I'm hungry. Let's get going. What's the hold up ?!"
Come on then, and I'll make you a hot dinner.
Si the DogBlogger.