Muffin's Blog

Mr Muffin on plumbing - and other things    by Mr Muffin

April 2013

I am told our bathroom was put in in 1978.   That’s years before me great-grandma was born, and before John – and even Daff- moved here.  It had a terra cotta-coloured bathroom suite and lots of wasted space (Daff says).   Now Daff, after all the years of making do, has persuaded John to part with his money and have it refitted to provide a shower room so John can get his wheelchair in (Daff says)- only John doesn’t need a wheelchair (yet, Daff says).   Daff says it will also be a lot more convenient to shower us hounds, as it’s downstairs, especially Discit when she roles in fox poo.   At the moment, we all have to shake our wet coats all over the guest bedroom, which Daff doesn’t like at all.   She also says she much prefers white sanitary fittings and tiles in a small bathroom, and, all in all, the bathroom was looking horribly old-fashioned.

I like a nice, warm shower – it brings my white coat up shiny bright and no-one notices the odd grey hairs (and dinner) round my muzzle after I’m all fluffy and clean.   I’m not fussy about fashion, but I really am looking forward to a short journey from the back door to the shower, instead of having to go through all through the bedrooms, and I sincerely hope the new job will be working before the Fen Bank Dog Show on 5^th May.   Oh, I forget to tell you, Detective Chief Inspector (retired) Tom Barnaby is back.   Daff says she can cope with him now John’s a lot better (and nobody wanted to adopt the self-opinionated prat at Fen Bank) so he’s with us again, and he will appreciate a good scrub too, as his muzzle is always caked up with food and the girls seem attracted to certain parts of his anatomy that obviously need a thorough cleaning.

But the best thing about having a new bathroom (or should it be shower-room, as there isn’t going to be a bath?) is that Daff thinks we shouldn’t disturb the plumbers (or the electricians, either), and so we’re allowed to stay in the sitting room ALL DAY, instead of after 7pm, which are the usual house rules.   It’s always nice and warm in there, and if it gets a bit chilly, Daff lights the log burner, so it’s really popular with all of us, except Mr Paddy, who would much prefer to sleep under the radiator in the dining room.   Until, that is, he’s had his tea, which he insists on eating alone, after which he often takes my place on the settee, and I just can’t get it into his thick head that all sofas are my province.   It can cause some grief, but usually I let him have his own way as he’s going to be 10 years old next month, and Daff says geriatrics should be deferred to.   I’ve known him eight years, and he’s always seemed senile to me.

The new shower will take at least two hounds and a groan-up, so I’m planning a shower party when it’s all finished.   Of course, they’ll have to use it in shifts, as I’ve already got five dogs on my invitation list – the four Morgan greyhounds and Swift Courtney (or Dessie, as we knew him when he came to stay the night with us recently) – now, he’s a gent, if ever I met one; I really hoped he was going to stay for good, but it seems we only get rubbish here.

If anyone else wants an invite to my shower party, you’d better let me know soon, as places (and sausages) are strictly limited.

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