Home is where the heart is

The last part of any holiday unpacking and tidying away is always fetching the hound from the hundehotel (kennels). He never minds going (I'm sure the kennel maids have pockets full of doggy treats) but is always ecstatic to see us, this time as previously he got shipped up to Jade near the German north sea coast for the two weeks, it tickles us that Logan gets to go to the sea* as well.

This is him, reminding the garden who calls the shots, rolling around, unashamably, getting rid of the kennel smell I guess.

Before you comment: yes, I know the grass needs cutting, it's the teen's job, and he refused to do it yesterday (we did only get back to the house about 5pm) can't do it today (it's raining, and it's Sunday**) he promises to do it tomorrow...I wont hold my breathe, shall just refuse to feed him!


* not literally, I'm fairly sure they don't take the dogs on daytrips to the beach, could you imagine?!
** not allowed to do noisy stuff on Sundays here, so if you want to cut the lawn you have to use scissors (as I have seen my neighbour's father doing once... nail scissors no less.)