Day One Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty Two

I had a nice quiet day.

We did not go for our nice walk until late.

Zita had to drive Niamh to dance a lot school and Emmet to his nice university. 

Craig's nose is still caught by the sneezy cold. Oh well.

Craig and I had toasts. And when Zita came home we had more toasts. Ha. Good for me.

Then we went for our walk. It is not so nice out today. Everything was all soggy. Even me. I had to stay in the kitchen. 

Then Zita put my big orange towels on my duvet. And I had a nice nap. And then I was dry as a chip. Ha. 

Zita had to talk to lots of rascal ladies. From all over. Because of the important meeting. 

Tomorrow is the special day for all the ladies in the world. That is good. Even me. Because I am a lady too. Ha. 

Zita has to go to a way way early breakfast. Tomorrow. To say hello to lots of ladies. It is not for dogs. Not even nice lady dogs like me. Oh well. 

Niamh is way way busy. Too much to do. 

Too many dance a lot practices. Too many remember everything exams. Oh dear. 

I will be a big help. I will keep her all cosy warm. And safe. 

Craig and I had cheese toastys for our lunch. Then later we had peanut butter fat toasts. Ha. Good for us.

He caught the nasty man who killed the nasty lady. It was two nasty people. That is why it took so long to find them. Oh well.

He is a knight now. With a little helper. And a very big horse. But no nice dog. Oh well. 

Then Zita had to go to the too small office. For more meetings. 

They will have brand new tshirts for the rascal ladies. For tomorrow. But it is a secret. Ha. I know. Too bad for them. 

I did not go for a walk before dinner today. It is way too soggy outside. The puddles were too cold. I had a nice nap instead. 

Our friend Mister Tom brought us new programs for the television. That is nice. Lots of programs. 

Even Zita's cousin Mister Kevin. Playing Irish music. On his giant flat drum. And singing. On our own television. And everybody talking all in just Irish. 

I could only understand the music. Not the talking. 

There were lady dancers too. Dancing just like our friend Miss Rowan. Ha. 

Emmet has a big flat drum too. He bought it in way far away Ireland. A long time ago. Before I was his friend. 

Sometimes he plays it. But only late at night. But just softly. By himself. I can hear it. And his long whistle too. Sometimes. Ha. That is nice. 

Music is nice. It makes everybody happy inside. That is good.