If you’ve been following my blog, Miss Penny speaking, you’ll already be aware of my many eccentricities. Closed doors being one of them.
Most of the time it’s just the two of us. We live together, obviously and we work together on Susan’s books, the current one being The Painting, but more about that later.
Right, back to closed doors.
Susan never closes doors unless we have visitors. You see where this is going, don’t you? Over the holidays we had visitors. Actually, a house full and chaos on Christmas Day.
Some of you already know about my bathroom-door phobia, but for those of you who don’t, let me explain. I love visitors, truly I do, but when we have visitors the bathroom door is suddenly closed tight. Frequently. And even a determined push with my paw will not open it.
I’ve given this a lot of thought and I’m convinced there is a secret portal in the bathroom. This terrifies me. What if Susan is pulled into the portal and disappears? If I’m locked on the wrong side of the door, I can’t protect her. Worse still, if the unthinkable happens, I wouldn’t even be there to rescue her.
Now do you see why I get anxious?
Susan is giving me one of those “Really?” looks. She insists there is no portal and that the closed door is quite simply for privacy. Privacy. The canine part of me does not understand privacy. Consider where my bathroom is located. I will say no more.
So, Christmas Day was going along nicely. The boys were cooking, Susan, Rose, and our friend Margaret were chatting and sipping wine.
Psst! A tad more than sipping, but what do I know?
Then—knock, knock. More visitors.
You will not believe this. Susan’s son Frank and his wife, Glenda were at the door. If you remember, we spend time at their cottage where I must tolerate Lola and Lily, their two dogs. And yes, you guessed it—Lola and Lily came charging into my apartment.
I kid you not. I was a nervous wreck.
Which led me to a thought. What if I enticed Lola and Lily into the bathroom? Heehee! Closed the door and let them disappear into the portal.
Sadly, it didn’t work. Probably for the best. I suspect I would have been in a great deal of trouble.
One last word about writing and Susan’s progress with The Painting. We are now writing about the frozen Highlands of Scotland in the 1880s at a Hogmanay celebration. A very posh affair. The ladies in long gowns and the men in evening dress, smart tailored jackets and heavy pleated tartan skirts.
Psst! I kid you not. They are called kilts, made of fine wool and each tartan is a different pattern representing that particular family or clan. Very interesting.
Until next time,
Tail wags and doggie licks,
Miss Penny 🐾💗
P.S. More adventures of Miss Penny Check out her book A Dog with a Blog
