Meet the neighbours
Bertie’s definitely the strong, silent type. He’s not prone to undignified fits of barking, even when someone comes to the door, but there’s something about our new neighbours that really gets his goat. You see, we’re surrounded on two sides by fields which currently contain the most adorable fluffy, huge eyed baby cows (yes I know, there’s probably a technical term for them but I’ve no idea). Whenever we take Bertie out, they come rushing up to the fence to have a look and for some reason it really annoys him so he barks. And barks, and barks, and barks. The babies, for their part, don’t give a monkey’s and carry on regarding him with their big, liquid eyes. Hubby says it’s lucky I’m not a farmer or they’d all be crowded into the kitchen (wellll, I feel sorry for them when it gets dark).
No Responses to “Meet the neighbours”
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Jennynib says:
Dahling, if you’re going to be a card-carrying, spud-munching, welly-wearing culchie, you’re really going to have to learn the lingo. It’s C-A-L-V-E-S. Or mini beef burgers. Whatever… -
englishmuminireland says:
Calves? I thought they were what you slotted into your Uggs, Sweetie. Aw burgers, the poor poppets. Better pop out and give them a quick hug… -
Isitjustme? says:
Those calves look lovely or should I say delicious?
