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"We are going to a show!" she said, turning round in the car seat to look me in the eye. "I told you it would be a lovely surprise!"
She was excited.
If she wasn't human she'd be wagging her tail, mouth open, probably barking.
I groaned.
Or would have done if I wasn't a dog.
Instead, the noise I made was part whimper, part sigh. "Do we have to?" I barked. She shook her head, patted me on the head and told me to, "Be a good boy, now, Rex. What have we said about barking in the car. It gives Mummy a headache. I know you are excited, but you must try to control yourself."
I gave up trying to communicate with her and started to lick the window.
"And don't lick the windows," she said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. "You know Daddy hates the smears on the glass."
Not as much as I hate Dog Shows, I thought.
Full of self-important snob dogs and their ridiculously dressed owners.
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