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Has anyone else noticed that Santa is an anagram of Satan? I’m sure that, every year, I think I’m the only person to notice this. It still amuses me though.
Also, last night I noticed that pigeons here may be prettier, less flea-ridden, and less likely to take your arm off for a piece of sandwich than in London, but they sound strange. I keep thinking it’s the neighbours having sex, but it’s just a combination of Boris snorting, and the pigeons honking in the tree outside.
This is Boris.
He’s my dog. My inherited dog. I don’t count him as my neighbour’s dog, because all they do is feed him and ignore him. The poor love is starved of affection.
He gets very excited whenever I come home, and leaps out of the shadows, barking like the guard dog he definitely isn’t. He shows his delight at my presence by pissing on my bicycle on a daily basis.
He also brought me a lovely flower the other day that he’d uprooted from the flower bed, and which he had clearly spent all afternoon flinging around in an attempt get the dirt off. Most of the petals had come off too, but it was a nice thought.
I quite like Boris, even though when he rolls over to be tickled, he always shows off his rather unsettling, mishapen pink penis, which means that most tickling lasts a limited amount of time, and is accompanied by the words “Put it away Boris.” He also snorts in a way I’ve never heard any dog do before. Sometimes I wonder about his provenance.
Boris has been helping me do my jigsaw. He does this by sitting with his head on my foot, and slapping his tail against the patio doors every time I start singing along to music. I noticed this yesterday - it’s quite flattering.
He also makes me feel safe at night. Although I know that he would never, in a million years, attack a burglar, I have begun to find his habit of running around the house and barking throughout the night quite comforting.
So, that’s Boris. I thought I’d hate him, but I don’t. He’s quite sweet really.