This morning we are expecting Small Boy apparently, so I am on guard. Poised, in fact, ready to launch forth in excited greetings. Like a true athlete I am rehearsing it all in my mind.
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Born and trained on Lord Bath's estate at Longleat I didn't like the bangs the guns made. (I don't like the noise The Owner's Dyson makes either.) So I was 'released' from my training (given my P45). I was picked up and deposited rather unceremoniously in the back of a Land Rover and taken back to The Owner's cottage, although I did get my own back by depositing a large amount of regurgitated breakfast in the back. There then followed a rather more challenging form of training on matters such as 'How to behave indoors!' and 'Not pooing on the carpet!'. I must have passed this training because I was allowed to stay and am still here today. The Owner can be a grumpy git but he puts up with me and he's my bestest mate.
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