… well, the loose approximation of it represented by this blog, anyway.
The holiday, since you ask, was fantastic. It was in one of those picture-perfect resorts, you know, with the palm trees coming down to the powdery sand sloping down to a turquoise lagoon. But not at all crowded – it’s a private beach belonging to the hotel and at the prices I was paying, I can tell you, there’d just better be some serious privacy! And the hotel was as spectacular as the price implied: the rooms, the food, the pool… made a lot of new friends too, apparently.
What do you mean, ‘how do I know’? She sent me a postcard, of course. I mean, I didn’t actually see it until after my release because the kennels don’t allow postal deliveries, but I expect she didn’t know that and it was a very kind thought. She was having so much fun, she hadn’t even put enough postage on it, the silly thing! Had to come out of my pocket money. I’d been saving for.. well, I mustn’t complain.
Another year, another… maybe 550 or so captioned images? It hardly bears thinking about, does it? Better get on…
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| Stick-fetching is one of those things that sensible husbands quickly learn is not really up for discussion. |
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| You know, I think she might be about to confess her life-long fantasy of making love to a short, slightly overweight guy wearing a frilly french maid outfit. Give her time. |
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| It’s a shame they can’t both win. |
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| Damn. That was going well. |
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| It’s awful wearing a chastity belt on a beach – sands gets in, apparently. Not that I’d know. Sensible concrete floors, that’s what we had in the kennels. Fresh straw on Thursdays. |
