This week, simply because the picture spoke to me so clearly, I have decided to have a go at Sunday Photo Fiction.
I hope you like what I’ve done with it.
Arthur was a good dog, a faithful dog. His owners lived on a farm near a lot of common land where Arthur was allowed to run and play with other dogs, provided he didn’t frighten any of the wildlife. Arthur never, ever frightened any of the wildlife.
One of Arthur’s greatest pleasures was, surprisingly for such an outdoorsy animal, watching the television. What do you suppose his favourite programme was? It wasn’t The Dog Whisperer, One Man and his Dog or even a wildlife programme (although Arthur did have a soft spot for Paul O’Grady). No, Arthur’s favourite programme was Blue Peter.
Arthur never missed an episode of Blue Peter; except for that one day when he was taken to the vet and relieved of a certain part of his anatomy, but we don’t talk about that. He loved everything about it, but most of all, he loved when the presenters’ pets shared the stage with them. He was never sure if they were outdoorsy dogs like him, or indoorsy like that diminutive terrier the old ladies kept in the house down the lane, but he really, really wanted to be a Blue Peter dog.
Arthur’s owners knew this, of course. That’s why, after he died, they had him Petra-fied.