The Mouse has blotted his copybook.
While I was faffing around in the kitchen yesterday cooking cumquats, it was quiet around the house. I thought Mouse was asleep on his bed on the other side of the counter. I was wrong.
The expression says it all. There were doggy protestations of innocence, nudges, wagging of tails. But it was clear that the old cushion insert left on the floor after his last decorative nap on the rug had not exploded by itself, nor had it viciously attacked him, requiring self-defence. The innocent plushie had the same treatment and now has a limp leg where all the stuffing has come out. But his other toys are fine, as indeed are all the cushions with covers on them. There is something about fibre-fill that arouses his instinct to grab and shake. He is now studiously ignoring the mess as if to imply that it has nothing to do with him.
On the other hand, his walkies behaviour is impeccable, and he now ignores small children on bikes, mobility scooters, traffic whizzing past fore and aft while he waits at traffic islands in the middle of the road, chickens, other dogs, ibis (aka bin chickens), and the whistles of the school crossing dragons. In all this, he is a Good Boy.
In other news, the coughing and wheezing continues and yesterday I was issued with this, among other medications.
Still, if it finally gets rid of the cough, the wheezing and the fatigue, I shall be very pleased.