In which Angel muses on false accusations and names and shames a love cheat!
I’d like to share with you, My Lovelies, in this Secret Sharing Session that there is one ‘special’ man in my life. He’s a Scottie dog, and very handsome with his beautiful glossy black fur. Blush! My heart belongs to my beloved, Scottie boy Hamish, well most of the time! But Shh, I think we’ll definitely keep that as our little secret! Grab the tissues, curl up on the couch avec Moi, we shall have a nicely chilled Chardonnay and some choccies and join me in sisterly solidarity, My Lovelies, as I share my boyfriend blues. This is a weepie of epic proportions, I tremble as I relate how I handled the heartache of being falsely accused and misunderstood. I’ve had an upsetting day and I am sure when you hear all about it, you will totally agree that I am not my usual bright and bubbly self.
‘Oh dear, what can the matter be, Angel?’ I hear you solicitously enquire.
Please pass the chocs this way. Hmm, can you find the champagne truffle? That’s my favourite so don’t snaffle it! I shall reveal all my Lovelies.
What did I do? Well, to be perfectly honest as I just said, I do not know. I have been struggling with that very question since it happened. It seems that once again, Angel is in the doghouse. Yet again Angel is accused. Falsely I may add. I am as innocent as the driven snow, as innocent as my lovely pure white furry coat. So, I ask myself, and you too, because I just know you will absolutely agree with me (because I am always right) when did it become a crime to be gorgeous? When did it become a crime to be just sooooo irresistible to the opposite sex? Can I help it if I have been blessed by an abundance of beautiliciousness? Some lucky people are just born beautiful. I am one of the lucky ones.
Unlike some I could mention, but won’t. Some like that rotten, manky Bichon Frise Kimbles. She’s a frenemy of mine ever since stoopid Grannie put her on the cover of those rotten books I told you about. I saw on the telly on one of my favourite glamorous reality shows that you have to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. She is a total ‘wannabe me’ but as I am just soooo much more beautilicious that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Anything I have, then Kimbles wants it too, and that includes all my many admirers. One day that dog will go too far and the fur will really fly! Grrr…I really don’t know what her problem is. If her fur wasn’t white ‘cos she is a bichon Frise, it would be green ‘cos she is soooo jealous! And as for those scurrilous rumours that I am jealous of her and her manky modelling career … Grumphhh!
Is it my fault if I have the cutest little tush to waggle as I walk my walk? Can I help it if my bark is a Siren’s call? Can I help being totally magnetic to any dishy dog lucky enough to gaze on my loveliness? I mean, I am practically drenched in Charisma, like other mere mortals are in cheap perfume. (Ohh, a little digression here. With my innate shyness, modesty and self-depreciating ways, you have to agree it is indeed a highly potent combination! I just know that you will also agree, now you have been made aware of the facts of the matter that I have been treated so unfairly…Hurrumphh. So, My Lovelies, armed with this knowledge, I ask you, what type of doggy person would get mad about things that are totally beyond my control? Have you guessed just who, my Lovelies? Unbelievable isn’t it? Only my favourite, bestest boyfriend…Erm, I mean my only B.F…Oops, little slip of the tongue there! It is time for Justice to be done. It is time to name and shame… Hamish!!!
Unbelievably, my B.F (that’s my boyfriend) is totally mad at me and I am deafened by the sound of his silence.
‘Porquoi? Angel, surely he hasn’t dumped you, has he?’ you may well further enquire in stunned disbelief that anyone could actually be mad at me, like ever, as if!
And the short answer is ‘I dunno.’ It saddens me to report it is indeed true that we no longer appear to be an item. O’er I hear your gasps of shock and horror. ‘How could he?’ and ‘How dare he!’ and ‘Has be become crazed and rabid?’ I hear you all cry with solicitous sympathy. Help yourself to another chocolate, pass me a Champagne Truffle please, and listen up, this is what happened…
Hamish was late for our date. He had promised to take me for a lovely walk through Tewin woods. There is a very nice pub, The Plump Partridge, at the end of the walk . They do the most delicious food. We were going to take his humans, Henry and Henrietta. It seems you need to swop money for dinner and drinks and snacks in pubs. Hmm, bit confusing, as at home I just help myself, or get Grannie to go fetch. Her training is coming along nicely, I can report! They seem to get a bit irate when I do that in the village Inn. Some people are selfish like that, especially those other diners with way too much on their plates. Chowing down on too much food can make you hurl. Being a helpful canine, and mindful of hurling humans, I have on occasion relieved some of those overfull plates of their contents. It did not go down well. I was stunned at the lack of gratitude from those ingrates. Humphh…Anyhow, I digress. Since Grannie explained the unusual custom of swopping dosh for nosh, I kept my mush firmly out of other peoples plates and resisted temptation, and it is a scurrilous rumour to say my temperance is driven by being firmly tethered by my manky red harness to the table leg! My humans have their uses, especially when they are paying for yummy nosh ups.
I was hungry. Grannie was out and G.G.P had nothing tasty to snaffle out of his sandwich. I am not partial to peanut butter, marmite and apricot jam. Totally rank. So, you can imagine with a rumbling tum I was really looking forward to enjoying a nice pheasant in an apple and cider sauce, roast potatoes and honey glazed carrots and maybe a glass of Merlot to wash it all down. The hands on the clock ticked by. No knock at the door. I texted my boy, there was no reply. What was the matter, had something bad happened? I was worried. I was also very hungry so when Hamish failed to turn up, I took matters into my own paws and leaving G.G.P chomping happily on his skanky sandwich, trotted down the Lane to my boy’s house. I was fearing the worst (he had already eaten) and hoping for the best (my posh nosh up). A couple of raps, a few yaps. No answer. A couple of bangs, a lot of barks and Hamish eventually opened the door.
He stood there all mean and moody looking. He glowered at me and I was confused as to why I got ‘picture and no sound’, why was I meriting the silent treatment? Hmm, maybe he had a sore throat and lost his bark? That illusion was soon shattered when I went to rub noses and he pulled his head away and stuck his nose in the air.
Then to add insult to injury, my arch-rival Kimbles that manky Bichon Frise came strutting along the road, wriggling her tush and Hamish only gave her a wolf whistle. Was I miffed? Yes, I was miffed. You would be miffed. Any girl would be miffed. He should only have eyes for me! And she looked minging with that silky pink bow in her freshly curled fur, matching her claws coated in rose coloured nail polish with a sprinkling of rainbow glitter. Eww…some girls try so hard. Some girls should not bother ‘cos they are just too manky. Just sayin’ Kimbles!
‘Oi Angeeee,’ she shrieked with her rotten squeaky bark splitting the air, ‘Wot you bin up to? I ‘ere you bin a bit naughty, again!’
O’er, a crimson blush spread across my snow white cheeks. Not that I had anything to hide you understand. My conscience was as clear as The North Sea.
‘My name is Angel, not Angeee,’ I haughtily replied, choosing to ignore her scurrilous statement.
‘Hahaha!’ she clutched her sides laughing, ‘Well is that sooo? Ain’t that a right ole mizznommmer then! Tee hee-hee, wot I ‘ere is that you bin a right little devil wiv the boys! You ain’t no Angel, you is a sinner!’
Oh, my cheeks were flaming an unflattering shade of red and Hamish had gone a funny shade of puce. It was not a good look, for either of us.
‘My name is not a misnomer, for your information I am the personification of Angelic innocence!’ I snarled at her, and showed her my teeth, hoping she would back off and Er, shut up. I am all for free speech as long as it doesn’t involve spilling my secrets! My temper was beginning to go at this point. I could see my much anticipated dinner slipping away into just a hopeful daydream, thanks to that manky Bichon and her big gob.
‘That’s not wot I fink and it ain’t wot I ‘eard. I ‘eard from people wot no, mentioning no names, Angeee, but it woz straight from the ‘orses mouth wasn’t it, Angeee. Some dogs just can’t hold their drink! And lots of peeps round ‘ere have seen ya! Go on deny you went on a date wiv Teddy Hot Paws, he’s such a dapper dog, ain’t he?!’ She screeched with satisfaction.
Kimbles models herself on two iconic beauties, Marilyn Monroe and Moi. She fails miserably at both…Grrr…I have occasionally hung out with her and can report she has no class. Ohh I shouldn’t had let her persuade me have that fifth glass of Prosecco. And she promised not to breathe a word about Teddy…and those other boys…Er, not that there is anything to tell, you understand. To add insult to injury, as Hamish stood there glaring daggers at me, she took unbelievable liberties and only asked my B.F out!’ Has she no shame? Purely rhetorical question, as of course she doesn’t!
‘Oi Hamish, seeing Angeee is occupied elsewhere steppin’ out and about wiv ole Hot Paws, if you are hot to trot, me old mate, I’m your gal, so text me and I can show ya me latest modelling pix for Nero dog food!’
‘Yeees, I heard she was occupied elsewhere too, Kimbles, so I dunno why she is around here bothering me! Oh and I have saw such how delightful you look in the Nero ad campaign, I can’t think of any other girl gorgeous enough to do what you do Kimbles!’ he gave me a withering look.
‘Ohhh, fanks me ole mate and I ‘opes I ain’t bovering ya and ya fancy that date wiv a famous model like meself instead!’ Ohhh the brazen biatch!!!
‘Now you mention it Kimbles, I do have dinner reservations at the Plump Partridge that are going to go to waste. The food is delicious there, I had planned on sharing very generously with some charming female company.’ He gave me even more evils and a glare that would freeze hell , then turned and gave manky Kimbles a 100 watt smile that would totally melt an iceberg.
‘Don’t believe her! Hamish please,’ I implored, reluctant to give up that Pheasant dinner just yet. But Kimbles was not about to give up either, she was a total dog with a bone and she viciously played her ace and went in for the kill. ‘I ‘ear that Teddy’s not the only one. You are sooo generous sharing your G.F, Hamish! I hear she’s not an exclusive kinda gal wiv any of her B.F’s, are ya Angeee?’ she smiled sweetly and winked at Moi! I was actually speechless. Who knew? I had been so careful!
‘Is she really not exclusive, Kimbles? Then maybe I won’t be either, unless you want to come in and explain it all to me, Angel!’ said Hamish fixing me with another of those arctic stares.
O’er, I was not happy at the thought of being on the receiving end of his interrogation. Picture and sound was infinitely preferable to ‘fessing up. Not that you understand, there was anything to ‘fess up, well not too much…But discretion being the better part of valour was becoming a very attractive option and I started to retreat back down the path Kimbles had been spitefully leading me up.
‘Do you want to tell me all about it, Angel?’ asked Hamish persisting most unreasonably.
‘Er nooooo…’ I barely managed a whisper. I mean, My Lovelies, don’t you agree there is a code between us girls that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas and here was whistle blower Kimbles…
‘Kimbles, you are looking really hungry. Shame to waste my dinner reservation so I’m just off to the Pub for a delicious bite to eat, do you fancy coming along too. My treat, a nice guaranteed steak dinner for you, and ice cream to follow, Gorgeous nosh up, just like you, my dear.’
‘Oh yeah! please Hamish, sounds a well tasty dish, Hamish, heh heh, just like you, Hamish. Throw in a glass of Cider or six or seven, Hamish and it’s defo a date, Hamish!’ She simpered his name all breathlessly.
OMG I could not believe it. My B.F flirting with my Frenemy Kimbles? It was too much. I was so stunned. I ran all the way home, with my tail between my legs….
Does Angel really let that biatch Kimbles get away with nabbing her posh nosh up and her premier B.F Hamish???