I am smart, good-looking, will cuddle up to you if you need me, and I’m totally adorable.

So why does Mummy say I’m a monster?

Okay, that Roscoe told tales about me fighting him a few weeks ago.

And when I sneaked into Bertie’s run while Mummy was snoozing on Friday evening, well, it was his own fault we got into a fight.  It was nothing to do with me. Why he was hiding in his tent, crying, when Mummy woke up, I have no idea.  He’s a big baby.  I was just in his tunnel, making sure next door’s cat didn’t intrude on our territory.

Apparently, apart from lots of patches where his hair has been pulled out, Biggles has a big bite on his back. Mummy’s put him straight onto Roscoe’s medicine before my germs can get nasty.  MY germs?  I reckon they’re Biggles’ germs.  Or Roscoe’s even, leaving them lying around wherever he’s been.  He goes everywhere, that chap. AND he’s been eating the bottom of the hay bag so the hay drops onto the floor.  That’s quite clever, actually.  I wish I’d thought of that.

But I don’t do things like eat hay bags.  I’m a good boy.  I’m totally adorable!

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