Baby can I drive your car

I fall for this one every time. Lead on. Door opens and I'm thinking of nothing else but getting out there, off on another adventure. Maybe to the park (the best place in the world bar none) or around town and I can meet lots of people and count the ones who want to rub me down!

Usually this is what happens, anyway. But sometimes, instead the door of this metal box thing opens and I'm bundled inside. To be fair, Mum puts a nice rug in there for me and my favourite toy but I do not like getting into that thing.

For one thing it makes a strange noise. And Mum sits in front of me with her back to me. Woof to that.

But when the door opens again, it isn't home anymore. A few times there was a beach instead, which was just fine with me. Other times a nice forest walk. Also meeting my schnauzer approval.

What I haven't figured out is how how this metal box thing works. But I'm giving it a bit of thought.

Keeping my ears open

There is an interesting thing about my human family. They want to tell me everything. And I mean everything. For example, I know that my Mum puts six eggs in the Christmas pudding. See, Isaac, she'll say, this recipe needs six eggs. Now I don't understand any of this and Lord don't ask me what a recipe is or why it needs so many eggs but I know that it does. Thankfully, it stopped at the eggs and there's been no mention of it needing any of my kibble.

Then there's Dad, now he tells me that the referee is completely useless. From this, I deduct that a referee is a type of cat and I keep a watching brief to ensure it doesn't get out of that glass box in the corner.

I also know that Mum's driving is hopeless (Dad tells me this a lot), that Dad is going to have no socks to wear  - ever! -  if he doesn't put them in the wash him bloody self (according to Mum). By the way, socks I know about and have an active interest in and I am glad Dad leaves them on the floor for me.  I know that Dad's boss is a bore and that Mum believes if Hugh Grant is in this film the phone better not ring.

I'm just glad I have lots of fur because they like to rub my coat and this seems to encourage them to start talking.  So I keep my ears open because one day, some of this stuff could come in useful.

Thinking time

My name is Isaac. I've started up his blog (it rhymes with dog, has to be something I'd like to do right?) so the world can see how truly amazing I am.

Not that I want you to think I'm conceited or anything. I simply want you to fall madly in love with me just like everyone else I know has.

Anyway, seeing as I have decided to share my thoughts with you, I find myself thinking a lot about what to  write. Turns out, I'm deep.

And to prove it here I am, pondering....