Lily on the Sofa 2 10.14.10.JPGIsn't it always the way? For some reason, one corgi is never enough!

When I came to Rose Cottage there was old Megan who was about my age now when I arrived. There was also Rudy, a different breed altogether, and only a few years older. She had had a hard life and was always so grateful for her new home. Megan was stand-offish (as a corgi should be) so Rudy took me in and taught me the proper way to go down the stairs and the places in the yard to potty. We would walk the great expance of the yard, together -- along the high road fence to warn off people who traveled by (and those that got off the whale of a car (bus) right in front of the cottage. And she showed me how to chase squirrels but never hurt them (Rudy was so gentle, she once carried a baby rabbit to Mum and then set it down in front of her). When we would doze during the afternoon, I often used her fluffy tail as a pillow and I loved to bite at the lion like ruff around her neck.

A short while ago, she couldn't walk anymore and she didn't seem to know anyone but Mum. I still stayed by her but she was afraid out in the yard and wouldn't hike about it anymore. Matt carried her out to the bridge and I sat on the step to make sure she was safe but, one day, Mum, Daddy & Matt took Rudy away in the car and she never came back.

At first, Mum & Daddy said it would only be me -- that I wouldn't mind the extra attention of being the only dog in the household. Then, I heard them say that I must be pining for my Rudy. I tried to let them know that corgis are clever and we know the way of the dog world. Megan had gone away long ago before Rudy and I had figured out that, while I missed the cadence of Mum calling out "Megan, Rudy, Lily", life carries on with just "Lily". Mum lets me sleep on the bed and plays with me when ever I want. We spend quiet days by the pond and in the evenings, watching TV on the couch. I was getting use to having the folks all to myself. It's not so bad being the center of the world.

It started out with the longest car ride I can remember. I don't like cars. They move too fast and stop too fast and I can never get set quite right in the bucket seats because a corgi is so long. In addition, it wasn't just Mum and me; it was Matt and Daddy and Jessica and Mum and me which was quite a bit less room although I scrunched in between Mum and Jessica okay. We stopped on the way and Mum and then Matt took me for little walks and Mum offerred me a treat but I wasn't in the mood to take it.

Then, finally, we came to a little house and I stayed in the car while they all walked around to the back. Then Matt came to get me and I saw them standing around a large pen where there were three grown up dogs and, it seemed, way too many little corgis. Molly was out and ran up to me, right away, talking gibberish and jumping at my face. I warned her to be polite but she didn't seem to know what that meant. Daddy picked her up and I breathed a sigh of relief. Children! Homely (though there were some lovely sable puppies and their Mum in the pen) with their ears flopping and so ill-behaved!

Then they took Molly (I can't believe they picked her) and me to the car and Mum, Jessica, me and Molly all had to sit together in the back seat. Mum held me close and directed Jessica to keep Molly on her lap (and away from me).

So it was done. Now we have Molly and, I must say, life is not so calm anymore. Mum says it takes time to teach a puppy the proper way to do things at Rose Cottage. She tells me I must pitch in -- be Molly's helper and show her the way.

I'm afraid I can't help being a little cross to the interloper, She jumps about and shouts at me to come and play. She pops right into my face and then does it again. I grumble at her and tell her to sod off but she doesn't listen in the least. Then Mum scolds me but, thankfully, also Molly. I know they love her, too, now so she must be worth something though I don't really see it.

One of her ears is now pricking up and she's starting to look something like a corgi but I still think all that black is tacky. She gets in trouble more than me (after all, I am a lady), which is quite wonderful and reminds me that I do everything right. Imagine, pulling the bows out of Daddy's tennis shoes and chewing on Mums slippers! At least she is polite about our meals.

Oh well; she is a funny little girl and I suppose it won't be so bad once she gets the way of the household. Still, the little wall Mum built so that she can't bother me in the living room is brilliant and I would't mind if it stayed up for a long while!