Nellie Reveals: I Know I’m Superior Because …

Night time rituals

I allow them to occupy 90% of the bed,  myself camping meekly down at the bottom; yet, they grumble when I foxy bring ‘squeaky foxy’ up to join me for a full body groom at 2am.

On waking in the early hours to see me astride their chest staring at them, they say naughty words; don’t they know that I’m just checking that they’re still breathing?

They generously turn over in bed, leaving the perfect space for me, then contrarily mutter because I’ve taken up the invitation.



sushiIf I’m not feeling peckish, they pick up my dinner bowl and pretend to eat it themselves: it’s delicious Nellie – do you want some?

They are too simple of brain to realise that I sometimes hold-out on the scoff so that they’ll add a little shaving of parmesan ‘to tempt me’.  Bless them.

 Adopting the ‘I’m a good dog’ sitting pose for a sufficient length of time also brings forth such delicacies as sushi and fillet beef morsels. They are putty in my hands.


They are obsessed with my behind

On walks, they are strangely focused on my rear end, in anticipation of the ground receiving a complement of matter. These deposits are carefully collected and commented upon: that’s a juicy/fruity/hearty one Nellie – wellrear view done!  My treasures are then carried indefinitely, before being placed in storage.

They keep lifting my tail to check on cleanliness. Don’t they know that I have that department fully covered?

This intrusion reaches new heights at bath time.

Sometimes, they even scalp me back there, so that my little eye is fully unveiled, in all its winking glory.


Playtime humiliation


 I am obliged to endure much in my dog duties, without complaint or grumble.

They desire me to act in a mature and responsible manner in front of guests, yet, behind closed doors, take pleasure in reducing me to no more than their silly plaything.



Dual standards in the sniffing department

cheeky sniffs They take every opportunity to stick their faces into my fur for sessions of deep inhalation, whispering erotic endearments about digestive biscuits.

This I endure and, secretly, enjoy. However, when I attempt the same at proffered orifices as they bend over to put on underwear, they refuse to reciprocate.