You'll never guess what I spotted on Gail's calendar this morning.
Yes that's right.
17th January: Duthie Dames Dog Walkers' Dinner
So of course I bounced up to Gail to reassure her that I was available to attend, was looking forward to it, nothing else in my diary that particular night, where were we going etc. and suddenly she started acting all evasive.
It's OK, I said, I'm not a fussy eater, and neither are my pals in the Park, some of us even relish sheep poo, I'm sure we don't mind if it's not somewhere frightfully posh.
It's so easy to tell when your human is uncomfortable isn't it?
Turns out that this Dog Walkers' Dinner is going to be a dog-free occasion.
Well that doesn't make any kind of sense at all, does it?
I mean, for a start, I strongly suspect that few of those who are invited even know each other's names. Will there be little place cards saying "Jake's Mum", "Frankie's Mum" and "Marcelle's Mum', together with a photo of the relevant hound perhaps? How else will the ladies recognise each other when without their distinctive canine companions and divested of their Michelin Man style winter dog walking attire? What can they talk about if us pups are not present to break the ice with our bottom sniffing antics?
Apparently this ill-conceived event will take place at Pizza Express on Belmont Street. Fellow diners that evening will surely recognise the motley crew with the dog hairs on their trousers and the ready supply of pooh bags bulging out of every pocket...
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