Paws at the ready at No 10

The Master returned and Larry came downstairs to visit me.  You could have knocked me down with a feather!  He walked tail held high and pink nose in the air into the kitchen.  Cook had thrown me a scrap of beef.  Larry eyed it for a minute, then I grabbed it and swallowed it in one go!  Foolish really, I had hiccups all morning.

Anyway, Larry said there was too much frenzy upstairs!  Phones ringing, shouting and arms flailing around.  'Why?' I asked.

'Well, you wouldn't understand, Butch."

"Try me!"

"Oh well"  Big sigh!  "There's been trouble in some place called Libya.  Master's been on a long trip and couldn't be expected to do two things at once, could he?"

"What sort of things?"

"Talk to foreigners, sell the UK's genius for making weapons and run the country at the same time."

"Suppose not!  Though he obviously thought he could."  Larry flashed me a hostile eye!  He's dead sold on this 'Master' business!

"He left that fool, the one they call Clegg, in charge!  But he forgot he was running the country!  Now Master's getting all the flack.  I tell you it's not fair!"

"Gee, Larry, I didn't know you could be so loyal."

"He pays the bills, doesn't he?  It's purely a question of knowing where your kippers are coming from.  If he's booted out, who knows who'll take his place."

I thought about it for a while.  Larry's right.  I heard that someone wrote to the Boy David and said what they needed at No10 was a Jack Russell!  That would spell curtains for both Larry and for me.

I poked my nose out of the door.  It was raining!  No ratting for me tonight.