The Diary of Miss Darcy Bustle: 22 June


In the park over the weekend my friend larry the labrador was sulking. Well, not sulking as such – labradors are too jolly to sulk – but he was certainly a little down in the mouth. Louis VI, on the other hand, was positively crowing. For the first time in decades, labradors have been knocked off their top spot as the country’s favourite breed and replaced by French Bulldogs – hence Louis VI’s smug little turned-up nose. Larry says he really doesn’t care, but when you’ve turned your back on a Bonio from the park keeper there must be something wrong. Still, all the more for me…


Duffle has been sailing all week with the editor’s husband. He is allowed to go because he is sensible and I’m not, apparently. I did beg using all my best begging tricks: I lay across the doorstep as they were leaving and I sat in the weekend bag as they were packing, but no go. It was a blanket ban. The fear is that I would insist on ‘doing a Kate Winslet’ on the front of the boat. To be honest, I hadn’t planned to do that until I looked it up and now I am absolutely determined. It’s SO my look.


Finally, doggies are being taken seriously. Even little ones like me. The boffins at the University of Salford decided to do a serious academic study to try and decode canine language, or, to put it bluntly, see if dogs were really capable of getting their messages across without the power of speech. Well, blow me over, their 37 ‘guinea pigs‘ came up trumps, as the card players say. Although to be honest, it’s nothing new to me. From the very basic – lying on our backs to get our tummies rubbed (one of my favourites) – to lifting a paw and tapping something we want, it seems we have been getting our humans to do what we want for centuries. Dogs are rather clever. Who knew?!



Now that I am two and a half, Lulu Guinness says I need to start a beauty routine. For a black and white moggy who comes from East Ham, she really does have ideas above her station. What does she know about beauty? True, she is always cleaning herself, rather obsessively I think. Then she ends up with lots of furballs that cause her to cough and convulse which is not a look I want to go for. Besides, Melonie and James are ever ready to put me in a bowl full of Fairy liquid suds and give me a summer scrub. Failing that, there is always the duck pond at St James's Park. Although the ducks do go quackers!


I have written to Guy, the rescue beagle who lives with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, to ask if he might like to come for tea in Hastings when they make their first official visit to the county. We could have a run on the beach and share a bag of chips. He’s a beagle. How could he resist?

See you next week 

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