Day One Thousand and Eighty One.

The nasty hospital hose did not work so well. Only a little bit. Not enough. Oh dear.

My friend Emmet had to go back into the nasty food hospital. This morning. And sleep there. All night. And tomorrow too. Not on his own comfy bed. In his own comfy bedroom. With all his nice pillows. Oh dear. Oh dear. 

It is not right. I do not like this. I do not like it at all. Zita does not like it either. She told me.  Who will guard him. All night. 

I had to guard Niamh all afternoon. And Julia. All by myself.

Niamh and Julia and I went for a long walk. I still guarded them. It is known. 

Zita came home from the nasty food hospital. So she could make Emmet some tasty dinner. 

She made Emmet's favourite tortellinis. And strawberries. And way soft cheese. And took it to the nasty food hospital. For Emmet. So he will get all better. 

You can not get all better forever unless you eat your own made tasty food. From your own kitchen. Not the nasty hospital food. It is known.

I cannot visit my friend Emmet when he is in the nasty food hospital.

Dogs cannot visit hospitals. It is a rule. It is not a good rule. It is known.

Craig saw the nasty food. He told me. 

They chopped up tasty green beans into just all squishy beans. No one will eat squishy beans. It is known. 

Craig and I played catch the ball when he got home. From the nasty food hospital.