In The Doghouse

I’m in trouble, aided by my partner in crime – Louis.

We’ve had good weather recently (notwithstanding the volcano ash which meant me cancelling a business trip to Las Vegas this week). As a result I’ve been barbecuing a lot.

On Friday night I did chicken satay skewers and protected the bbq grill with aluminium foil. I left the used foil on the side of the bbq whilst we ate and then closed up the patio for the night.

Next day after shopping we came home and let Louis out. He immediately nicked the foil and ran off with it. He could not be persuaded to let it go and the daft sod munched his way through it. Whilst he did this I had only two throughts in my mind.

1.) I’m a dead man, and,
2.) How can he eat that – just the throught of tinfoil in my mouth makes me think of receiving Radio Moscow.

Needless to say I’m not dead yet but we had a few fun days watching him expel (both ends) his own radar signal scattering tinfoil confetto shower.

He was a bit mopey for a couple of days but is now perking back up into full pest-mode.

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