Oliver: I was born in Queensland, where it is always nice and warm and not cold like it is down here in Victoria. When I was 8 weeks old, I flew down on a plane all by myself.
Here is me at the airport.
Yes it is a cat carrier. At least I had my elephant.
Oliver: Is it my skinny legs?
Oliver: Sometimes, when I'm lucky, I get the almost empty yoghurt pots. I clean them out so well you'd never know they ever had yoghurt in them.
Cleaning the bottom is the trickiest bit.
Bertie: I hate haircuts in winter. I'm all shivery.
Oliver: At least your legs have some fur left on them.
Bertie: That's what happens when you get matted fur. Some of those matts were the size of your head.
Oliver: But now everyone is calling me skinny legs.
Bertie: It's just your imagination, skinny legs. No one is calling you that.
Oliver: I'm going to lie close to the fire. And I'm not going to share.
Bertie: Don't roast yourself too much, skinny legs.
Give us cottage cheese and your shoes will remain unharmed.
Bertie: I'm slee-ee-py...
Oliver: Well, you shouldn't have kept us up all night, should you?
Bertie: I couldn't help it. I had insomnia.
Oliver: What does that mean - oh wait, does that mean you have to keep everyone in the house awake all hours of the night with your prowling and your woofing?
Bertie: It means it's not my fault that I did that.
Oliver: Hmm. I'm suspicious that this insomnia thing is a bit of a cop out.
Bertie: Well, nuts to you.
Oliver: And then, not only did you keep me awake, you got extra special snuggles and I had to sleep on my own at the end of the bed.
Bertie: heh heh. yep, I won. Special snuggles and my insomnia went. And I softly snored the rest of the night away.
Oliver: Snoring which also kept me up.
Bertie: The alarm went off way to early.
Oliver: (glare) For everyone.
Bertie: Grass, a recently emptied flower pot and sunbeams. What more could a puppy want?
Bertie: I like to have a well rounded exercise routine. Sleeping, eating, ambling around the block...
Oliver: I mainly focus on the eating. With napping to mix it up a bit.
Bertie: But I want to do something to quiet the yapping inside and become more centred. So I thought about yoga.
Oliver: I excel at downward dog. I think it was named after me, in fact.
Bertie: You know, somehow I don't see you as the zen type. Just a feeling really. Can't put my finger in it...
Oliver: I like sitting on the yoga mat. It's squishy.
Bertie: Sometimes Oliver...sees things. That may not be there. You know what I'm talking about.
Oliver: I don't. What do you mean? Hang on, can't talk, thought I saw something...
Bertie: You've been so slack blogging lately.
Oliver: Me! It's not my job to do the blogging.
Bertie: Well, you say the most. And you butt in all the-
Oliver: I do not!
Bertie: Talk to the paw, ooo-kaaay?
Oliver: It wasn't me that dropped the blogging ball. It was my deputy. I put him in charge and he didn't step up to the doggy food bowl.
Bertie: You outsourced? So who is this guest blogger extraordinaire?
Oliver: Pink Pig.
Bertie: He doesn't look too pink. Are you sure he isn't Was Once Pink But Now Grey Pig?
Oliver: Don't be rude. It's Pink Pig. He's my favourite friend who is always there for me.
Bertie: Except when you ask him to blog for you.
Oliver: Hey, that's right! I am going to *so* snub him. Starting now.
