Mummy gave us a pile of grass the other day. It was sunny all day. She was out in her golf things as usual. When she got home it was too cold for us to go out. It’s not fair, is it? You agree with me, don’t you? But she did go into the garden and pick some grass for us. It was a big pile. Well, Percy and Midge had a pile that was twice the size of mine. But that was for two of them. And Midge is twice the size of me anyway.
On Saturday it was pretty dull and wet. It wasn’t cold though. Something called ‘the heating’ came on. It made it very comfortable, especially in the early morning. Mummy didn’t go out in the garden, according to Oscar, who sometimes tells me these things in the morning. She took the rubbish out, but said it was raining. But in the afternoon she came round to all of us with a big tub of grass. She gave us a handful each. It was very dry. Very very dry, but it wasn’t hay. It was green. It smelled more like grass than hay, but stronger than fresh grass. I ate some of it then left the rest for later.
Percy says it’s called Ready-grass. It’s okay, I suppose. Not as good as real grass, but better than nothing.
I hate nothing.
Percy says I’ve never had nothing, so how would I know?
I just do, that’s all. Ready-grass is okay, but not much like real grass. It must be fantasy grass.