Roadkill and mouse sandwiches.

Interesting roadkill this morning on the way across the road to the common. A squirrel on its back, legs pointing up. But George wouldn't let me get anywhere near it, even just for a little sniff. (Why not?)
I don't like squirrels much. They're too twitchy... and sudden, and v. insolent to dogs.
A baking firm was fined £7,000 because a peeble found a dead mouse in a loaf of bread. Seems the family had started eating the loaf before the mouse was discovered. Chibblers had taken sandwiches cut from it, to school. (Clarice wants to know what all the fuss is about.)

Hair

Graham is stressing about his hair because a small patch top-back has gone missing, (mange possibly?) Lots of peebles get this, men mainly. Some of them just shave it all off and pretend they wanted to be bald all along. (They just end up looking like criminals.)

Leftovers.

Excellent leftovers tonight.
Lamb chop bones and scrapings of cauliflower cheese, potatoes with parsley and butter, peas and lemon meringue pie. Almost didn't get them, though, because George started fussing about bone splinters. There were a few heart-stopping moments with George standing poised with the plate above the open dustbin, (new one which I absolutely can't get in to), while I sat with a big drool-pool forming by my paws and concentrated on tragic, tragic thoughts until he gave in. (I did get a little splinter, but it went down later with my own dinner.) Clarice was being picky about her dinner as usual. 'What the hell is this? I don't like this flavour. You know I dont like this flavour. Why do you keep buying it?'
'What's wrong?' says George. 'Don't you like this one?' He looks at the pouch. 'It says "Gourmet Rabbit". It's lovely.Look.' He stirs it with a fork 'Come on, eat it up, it's lovely.'
'I'll have it.' I can't help saying.
'Stop that barking'. shouts Graham from the lounge.
George prods the food. 'Why do you always do this?' he says. 'What flavour would you eat?'
'Well..' says Clarice, 'Mouse would be good.'