Monday, 8 March 2010

Butter wouldn't melt

I awoke this morning to the aftermath of what can only be described as a toilet party. You see, Poppy is unable to push or pull open doors that are ajar (what she lacks in intelligence she more than makes up for in craziness and love). We have an intricate system of doors that means when Simon gets up and goes to work, Poppy runs into the lounge to watch birds out the window and gets separated from her litter tray.

She was away from her tray for no more than half an hour before I got up. In that time she managed to poo on our brand new rug and fold it in half to make a dirt sandwich, then make a well of wee on top of her play-gym. After cleaning all that up and putting it in the wash, I went upstairs to give her a piece of my mind. This is what I found...

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