When Coco’s main-person decided to visit her rellies (Aussie slang for ‘relatives’) in Australia and England for a month, she left Coco in the tender care of all her staff-persons along our end of the street.
Coco’s main-person returned a week ago, (the rellies having been thoroughly visited) and invited all the staff-persons over for a wee bit of a ‘do’ on Saturday night as a way of saying thanks.
Music was danced to, nibbles were consumed, drinks were imbibed, (our esteemed hostess makes a mean blueberry martini) and holiday memorabilia shared around to be ‘ooh’ed and ahh’ed over.
A good time was had by all.
There are four main housholds involved, three of which, we discovered last night, Coco has managed to convince to feed her the choicest morsels from their tables, because, of course, she would waste away to a mere shadow of her former self it they didn’t. Perish of the starvations, even!
Mrs Widds and I, heeding Coco’s main-person’s request not to feed her, have valiantly refused to succumb to the blue-eyed bandit’s blandishments.
Which is why I felt a certain sort of moral superiority when listening to the horror stories from those who had fallen from grace:
“As soon as she hears me turn the BBQ on, she’s right there waiting for her share.” … and, “we tap on our window to let her know we’re home.”
It appears that our specialty, cuddles and a quiet safe place to nap, is enough to keep our place on Coco’s daily dance card secure for a long time to come.
“May I offer you a restorative cup of tea? I hear from the humans that it’s the best cure for ‘the day after’, whatever that means.”
“Erm …” (burps delicately) “Par’n me … perhaps not at the moment.”