Bring back ED SHEERAN now!

take that hand away and bring back my Ed…!

The funny things that humans do. Or not funny as it happens.

So, I’ve-been living with humans now for 10 years… nearly eleven

you think after 10 years that maybe nothing will surprise you

you think perhaps that they will learn from their mistakes

you think that having enslaved the canine race humans will be better at adapting than dogs

you think wrong

Having watched the bad man try to cut through plasterboard with a hacksaw it occurred to me that a rhinoceros in a flour factory would make less mess. It also occurred to me that a rhino with a hacksaw would make a better job of cutting astraight line.   

When watching the mummy lady shouting a me because of my muddy paws on the sofa. When she made me go out in a hoolly of a storm when I was quite happy in front of the log fire, it occurs to me that the human race has devolved from apes, not evolved. It’s her fault the sofa has paw prints, not mine.

She tickles him.

The first time it happened I didn’t know what that noise was (the noise that the bad man made). It sounded like he may have weed himself only instead of urine, boiling water had come out. Screaming he was.

I jumped on them both, unsure of what to do. I was ready to bite him just to make him shut-up.

Now, years later, as an experienced Jack Russell, when the tickling starts, I just leave the room. It’s so undignified. I try to bury my head in my paws but evolution hasn’t been kind to me and the canine race. We have good ears, and my paws are not great at suffocating the shrill and piercing emissions from the bad man when tickled.

If I had a poison dart gun…

And Finally. Bad man went to visit his sister. Me, the mummy lady and Ed Sheeran came with him.

Now Ed Sheeran and me go way back. I have thrown him round the car, the bedroom, the garden, the living room, the utility room, the hallway. Well every room. You see where I am coming from. We go way back.

On the return from his sisters, the bad man realised that he had forgotten to pick up Ed Sheeran. My favourite friend.

He’s a monster that man. Aptly named the bad man. A monster.

I despair!!! And he won’t drive 90 miles to go pick up Ed, apparently my favourite toy will have to wait. I demand(!!) my teddy back.

Me and Ed chilling in happier times

I don’t have a great picture of Ed. But there is an artist’s impression below. It is too painful to look at. But if you see Ed, bring him back to me. He is 7 inches tall and has one arm slightly chewed off. And he is a ginger bread man. Please, have some mercy.

my best friend and mentor, Ed Sheeran
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