Obi’s Personal Log Aged One and Ten Twelfths:  Covered in Embarrassment

I am still reeling.  I’ve no idea  how it happened.  I wasn’t even thinking about her at the time, but I accidentally called Fat Dog on Wheels Mummy this morning.  I know.  I know.  I nearly died.  It was out of my mouth before I could stop it.  Even the floor opening and sucking me downwards wouldn’t have relieved my stress levels.
I wasn’t thinking.  She has an ear infection.  She stayed in bed.  I lost the plot.
Naturally i could have bitten my tongue off.  I looked away.  For a nano second I thought she hadn’t heard, she can be a martyr to her ears, then I saw the way the skin round her eyes had crinkled and her lips twitched.  She was trying not to do that thing large baldish dogs do with their faces to show they’re pleased about something.
I glossed over it as best I could.  Grabbed the tennis ball, insisted she threw it.  But there was no taking it back, my expletive, not the ball, she’ll play ball for hours.
The funny thing is that I have been calling Simon Big Boss, Daddy for two whole days.  I went right up to him, asked him and he said as long as I felt ready, it was absolutely fine by him.
I’ve never had a Daddy so choosing one was quite easy.  Simon Big Boss is quite old, has a calm voice and warm hands so he met all the important criteria.
Fat Woman on Wheels is another matter.  I won’t be separated from her except for ablutions.  She is my world.  She plays games, feeds me, we work together, share a bedroom and both like ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ but I’ve had loads of mums.  I’m suspicious.  When I’ve started calling other large bald dogs mum, it’s been time to move on to the next one.  Fat Dog on Wheels makes more sense.  Everyone knows who she is.  Mum, couldn’t she be anybody’s?

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