You humans must think we’re daft. You sit in your cafes, chat on the beach, write your blogs and assume we don’t have a clue. A sniff, a pee, a pooh and some food and we’re happy…you think. Did you seriously believe that the plot to replace me would go unnoticed?? That we don’t talk to each other? That we don’t have just two degrees of separation like the rest of you?
So I’m down at Narrow Neck and that flighty little genetically modified poodle, Betty, comes along, giggling away, doing her Kylie Minogue bit…You’re Not So Lucky, Lucky, Lucky. What’s going on here, I think as I see her off with a vicious twitch of my nose. And then that lunatic Amber…the wheaten with a permanent bad hair day (tried to eat me once)…comes by with her ‘got a new boyfriend then? Aren’t you Lucky’ An angry raising of the eyebrow gets rid of her, but by now I can see something is up. And my pal Bentley (who is the only one who realises how sensitive I am) confirms it. They’re up to something he says.
So when I’m at Sue’s and Coralie’s I do my cutey bit, sitting near to them when they’re on the the computer. Thinking me a brainless blonde, they assume I’m just devoted to them but I see what’s going on, the dastardly deed being planned, and even worse voted on. Now I know who my friends are!
So, lets be clear. I’ve talked to my solicitors – Woofing, Barking and Snarl – and they advise me in the following way:
All negotiations with alternative animals will cease
A public apology will be made in the Flagstaff within two weeks
Compensation will be paid for the hurt and humiliation I have experienced
Those who voted in favour of this Lucky creature should be very very afraid
I can see the Caretaker looking apprehensively at me sitting at the computer, so I will leave it there. Madam may wish to ponder, as she continues her travels around Europe, on what might be suitable recompense on her return
You have all been warned.