I get news from Robbie

I love hearing from my friends. I thought you might like to see the email I got from Robbie of Atlanta (wonder how he voted in the elections?). He sent it to David, who was quite slow at passing it on to me. I’m beginning to wonder if I need a full-time secretary. Anyway, here’s part of Robbie’s email. I’m pleased he is not quite so deaf now. (I seem to have problems with the word ‘No”, but otherwise, I’m fine in the hearing department.) Robbie also sent me a photo. Isn’t he a handsome dog!

Here’s what Robbie had to say:

“Hi. It's Robbie from Atlanta. Sorry I had to send this to your dad; although my dad has lots of de grease, he really is quite hopeless at doing something as simple as attaching a photo, as you asked. He tried several times to send it directly to you, then gave up. (I always know when he gives up when he says ‘I need a drink’.)

“Anyway, I thought I would send you a photo of myself cleverly trading a vital phone number for a treat. Works every time. I know you have a wonderful coat, but you must admit that mine is not too shabby, although I can tell you that wearing a full fur coat in 40 degree summer here is no fun at all. That brings up my next point. I think I mentioned that I lost my hearing. I'm not letting anyone know this, but it has come back slightly. It seems that I can hear ‘dinner’, ‘treat’ and other such words, but cannot or the life of me hear ‘let's go outside’ or ‘come and get brushed’, etc. Dad says it is selective hearing, although he seems to have that down to a science himself. (‘Scotch?’ he can hear perfectly; ‘Can you help with the dishes?’ — he never looks up). Happy walks, Robbie.”

David also got an email from a friend of his called Alan. It contained the alarming news that there is another Rupert who's in America. An eight-year-old boxer of all things. I think I am going to have to copyright my name.

Meet Robbie.