Sand

between my toes, up my nose, in my ears and in my important little places. Salt water all over my fur that was coiffured just yesterday (that'll teach them to subject me to the torture of the grooming salon). A whole beach on which to stretch my long legs, bark at statues of naked men and torment little dogs. Plenty of ways to get my family yelling and waving their arms at me. That's what I call a Sunday.

Plus I got a load of casserole that my Mum seems to be making some sort of point about. They all seem to have stopped sulking though.

I don't understand humans.