On Thursday mornings, when Gail wheels her bicycle out of the porch...
...I wait for the front door to slam shut then jump on to the back of the sofa, my favourite vantage point, from where I can see her ride away up the road.
Secure in the knowledge that Gail won't be back for a few hours, I get to work.
First I double check the kitchen floor, just in case I missed any food dropped earlier.
If it's a bright day, I pause for a just moment to soak up the rays in my favourite sun puddle.
Then comes the serious business of the morning, the search for chewable items that Gail might have inadvertently left within reach.
On one paw, this is getting easier as my always impressive jumping muscles strengthen further.
On the other paw, Gail's vigilance at trying to keep stuff hidden is improving.
Normally, I can find at least a pen or pencil left lying around, and this provides excellent jaw exercise for up to half an hour.
This agreeable activity might be interrupted when I hear the one of my neighbours barking and I feel compelled to run out into the garden through my doggy door. Although I can't see my neighbours as the garden is surrounded by a granite wall, I can still enjoy a conversation with them - often quite lengthy.
I might then satisfy a terrier urge to progress my 'tunnel to Australia' excavation project.
Next, paws all muddy, it's back inside to look for another item to chew, or if that fails, perhaps a wee nap (and happy dreams of future mischief).
When the time comes for Gail to return from her bike ride, I take up position again on the sofa, and keep watch, remembering to put on my best guilt inducing 'sad abandoned dog' expression with which to greet Gail as she approaches the front door.
