The Artist has always, always wanted a son. To do boy things with. As you do.
Last night, Koda was in charge of spotting The Artist whilst he did these things. Not sure he understood his role completely.
This morning, on arriving downstairs I was greeted by the puppy with a tea towel draped on his back. He shook it off furiously, grabbed it in his mouth and bolted down the passage. Like a puppy. As you do. I was quietly thinking about how the dummy puppy had managed to get a towel on his back and in his mouth all at the same time.
A few moments later with coffee the nectar of the gods in my cup I sat down next to The Artist on the floor upon which he proclaimed that we should have called the puppy Rocky. I raised an eyebrow slightly.
He then placed the tea towel on the dog’s back and proceeded to sing “Pa-pa-paaaa, pa-pa-paaaa. Pa-pa-paaa, pa-pa-paaaaa……….” You get the gist. According to The Artist, the puppy likes to be Rocky and gets particularly pleased when he pa-pa-pa’s the theme song from the movie to him.
At this point my eyebrow and my hairline met.
Where to from here? The asylum my friends, the asylum.
Love and light