Mornin’g all, Roscoe here.

I remembered to put the ‘g’ on up there, did you see that?  What, no ‘ thing?  Okay.

It’s a hard life being a guinea pig y’know.  Eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work.  I guess we work at what you call ‘play’, but it’s serious business, you know.

Take morning floor time.  That’s hard work.  It’s called exercise, and as ye may know, some exercise is really hard work.  I get down onto the hay box, and before I have time to explore it, it’s off onto the floor, checking up on everyone and everything.

Everyone = Neville plus whoever’s been there with him.  It’s either Bertie or Biggles.  I have to check up on their scents, make sure they’re okay, not leaving any messages they shouldn’t.

Everything = all the nooks and crannies in the kitchen, making sure they are still there, nobody’s overwritten my messages that shouldn’t be there, looking to see whether Mam’s swept under the table, that sort of thing.  Inspection is an important part of work.  Quality control, it’s called.

We have pretty good quality here, even if Mam has gone overboard recently with the cleaning up bit.

The only rest I get is out in the garden. A bit of grass, then a good sleep, in the sun or the shade depending on what takes my fancy.  We’ve been getting out on the grass most days, unless Mam hasn’t got home till really late.  She did that three days in a row last week, but I let her off because we spent most of Saturday and Sunday in the garden.  There’s not much grass there, though.  It’s all dry.  Except the wee bits in the shade of the boards around the veggie patches, or up against the wall. Those are still worth nibbling.

Trouble is, Neville’s nibbled them all now.  Okay, I might have helped a bit.

Mam says we need rain.  She’s even started throwing water on the grass.  It needs more than that, I think, Mam.

Ah, well, hope it’s nice and sunny where you are.  I’m off for some rest.