His favourite toys

Another late evening shot of the blipstar Pippin. Today we're looking at his tail and his favourite toy, an old sock with a tennis ball inside. We can swing it, pull it, kick it and he'll have endless fun. He'll chase it, carry it, and curl up with it. He holds on and we drag him around in circles or across the floor. He likes to play with me, he'll let me kick it, then he'll chase it, wait for me to walk over and kindly chase it again when I kick it. He chews it, attacks it, and totes it around when it's bedtime, taking it up onto mum and dad's bed (and in if he can get away with it). It's disgusting, probably smells, and we only touch it at the very very top of the ankle.

His tail is also a favourite toy. If he gets a bit chewy, we just stick his tail in his gob and he starts gnawing away, then gives it a good wash. Sometimes he chases it around in circles up and down the sofa and around the house. It's pretty funny. Awkward when you're watching something deeply serious on tv and he's galumphing around like a loony.

And so another day draws to a close. My brain's a little bit dead tonight. Should have been doing study for a 9am tute tomorrow, but after a full day of assignment writing and a 30% exa..err...test, I've just ended up watching tv, eating chocolate and generally being brain dead. I'll just have to wing it in the tute. How hard can diplomatic immunity be anyway?