Not Dogs

I have realised that my blog yesterday implied that my children were in some way to be compared to a dog. 

By saying that I could fill the void they were leaving as they departed for university with a hound, I inadvertently indicated equivalence.

How could I have been so rude and so wrong?

Let me state unambiguously that:

My children eat with knives and forks instead of just plunging their noses into a large metal bowl.

They refuse to sleep in a large basket in the corner of the kitchen.

Carenza hates country walks.

We do not have to carry a plastic bag in case one of them performs in the street.

Pascoe never chases cars down the road.

I rarely have to take Perran to the vet.

I have never caught the twins smelling their friends’ bottoms.

 

On the down side, however, they never bring me my slippers and the newspaper when I arrive home, and they seem pretty lack-lustre about guarding the house.