Philip.

[therealpm]

The funeral was yesterday.

Comments

[ch4ncellor.livejournal.com]

Peter? There's a... thing, I found it wandering outside... I don't know what to do with it.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

She's a dog George. Surely even y-

...oh never mind.

*lifts the terrier onto his lap and scritches behind the ears*

Hello you. And what's your name, hmm?

[ch4ncellor.livejournal.com]

This is one area on which you may be in a better position to answer than me...

And it can't talk, Peter, it's a dog.



It seems to like you at least?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

One of many.

*tickles the dog under the chin*

Of course not George, and broomsticks can't fly and you are most certainly not in possession of a minute dinosaur from an alternate universe.

*leans head closer to the dog*

What's that? Yes, he is, isn't he.

*smirks*

[ch4ncellor.livejournal.com]

I admit I have occasional concerns about you.

*starts*

Wait, can Norman talk?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Yes. You should hear what he says about your cooking.

*returns to petting the dog*

*looks up at George's mutinous face*

My boy, you are far too easy to rile.

[ch4ncellor.livejournal.com]

One day I will learn when you are joking... *sighs* And on that day, Norman will juggle and that mutt will fly

*smiles indulgently at the fact Peter's not swaddled in utter misery*

Explains why you don't eat much of it in any case...

Are you going to keep her? And what are you naming her - or has she told you her name?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Oh I should think so.

*rubs the dog's belly*

Cherie

Margaret

Glenys

I'm not sure, that will take a bit of thought.

[ch4ncellor.livejournal.com]

Just... keep her out of my shoes. And my ties. And Jack's not sleeping on the bed; she's definitely not sleeping on the bed.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

I'll buy another dog basket, don't worry.

*eyes the dog critically as George has a sip of tea*

What about Louise?

[ch4ncellor.livejournal.com]

*chokes on tea*
*attempts to breathe*
*splutters some more*

Bastard.

And on that note - go to the pet shop whilst I destroy the Guardian's employment figures.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Two bottles of red wine appear*
*Note reads:*

Hope you're as well as can be expected.

John