The Squeaky Toy

Ronnie has got this great furry squeaky toy that he loves to play with. That's when I let him. Which isn't often, as it drives me insane!

It's usually hidden somewhere (I find some ingenious places) but Janice finds it and gives it to Ronnie when I'm out of the room. Then the craziness begins.

Ronnie is delighted to the nth degree with finding his long lost toy (which in doggy time is probably a month of Sundays) and runs with it onto the sofa and sets about making it squeak as fast and furiously as he can.

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...

RONNIE!

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...

RONNIE!!!!

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squea-eak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...

I come stomping into the room hoping the sound of thudding feet will stop him

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squea-ea-eak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squea-ea-eak-a, squeak-a...

Then I make a lunge for the toy. Ronnie is about ten times quicker than me and he's off the sofa charging over to the other side of the room, fluffy thing clamped in his jaws...

Squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a

I chase him and he turns hard left and is off down the stairs.

Silence.

He's probably hiding under one of the beds, so I don't bother chasing him. So normality returns and I can sit down in front of the TV with my cup of tea and relax...

Squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...