The Scent Of A Sausage (Or How To Stop A Labrador Who Is In The Midst Of Executing A Cunning Plan)

Tonight the Fella and I were sitting on the couch eating dinner when there was a knock on the door.

It was our neighbour, dropping by to inform us Ellen had escaped.  Again.  And how had she done this?  Using her new favourite trick of pulling off fence palings and squeezing through the gap.

But she hadn't got very far.  Our neighbour was cooking sausages, and found Ellen on her front step, looking through the door.

Ellen is going to be dog-sat by the Fella's mum while we are in Paris.

Please let her be good.