Miss Dog entirely failed to cover herself in glory today. While I was otherwise engaged, and the sweet & patient lady who cleans up after us all was pottering to and fro, she scratched her way into a somewhat old and well ripened bin-bag and devoured rather a lot of whatever it was she found there. (We have no rubbish collection due to living up a farm track; bin bags, once filled, are hauled to the town dump). Five minutes after Mrs R. had closed the door and gone on her way, the less than divine Miss D heaved copiously and repeatedly all over the newly hoovered hall carpet, already replete with stains from previous canine crimes of all descriptions. Yes it was rash of us to have a pale carpet in the first place; our predecessors had a 70s mottled carpet in shades of vomit to which, thanks to canine interventions, we are rapidly regressing. What really made me want to throw something at the wretched beast is that the minute the Professor came in the door she hurled herself at him saying that I had been howwid and what is more, judgmental. Of course, they have never quite got the hang of the fact that we can talk.