Dad's voice is back today, but he sounds like a crow. I am feeling sorry for myself too this evening. Dad spotted me having a nice, soothing scratch in the garden and insisted on taking me to the v*t just because he found a small, eczema-like patch on my tummy. Other than that the v*t commented on how splendid I was looking and what good care Dad must be taking of me!
Nonetheless, I was most disgruntled by being taken to the v*t and sat with my back to Dad on the sofa for most of the evening. We went out for an interesting walky about an hour ago and saw no less then three cats, so I have forgotten about being sulky with Dad now. He thinks I might remember I'm annoyed with him, though, when it comes to bed-time... as he has got to rub a cream into my tum before I get my evening biscuit.