Dexter: Arch! Look! Mum’s obviously left this bowl of porridge just for me. Yum!
Archie: No, Pipsqueak! No! She’s only put it on the table while she gets her coffee. This is worse than when you nearly rolled in fox-poo this morning. Get down from the chair. I know I told you the Goldilocks story, but you really are NOT supposed to help yourse— Uh-oh. Your ID tag just clinked against the bowl. Loud enough for Mum to hear. You are so in trouble. Don’t fib to her that I encouraged you…
[Dexter is caught red-pawed helping himself to the porridge – with his face in said bowl – and is told off. New porridge has to be made for author’s breakfast.]
Archie: See. I told you she’d be cross. Now just sit and wait nicely. You’re allowed to lick your lips or even dribble over her knees, but in future just wait for her to finish her share. You’ll get your porridge.
Dexter: The trouble with porridge is that it’s so NICE…
[Author note: this was one of those super-lucky – or should I say super-licky? – shots where both dogs licked their lips at the same time; it’s not a ‘live’ pic. And, yes, Dexter really did try to scoff my porridge from the bowl!]
