Oh the humiliation of it all!

 

Mummy is taking this book writing thing too far.

Yes I know I need her help with the book I’m writing.

Yes I know that Mummy is the one who takes the photos for the book.

Yes I know that if it wasn’t for Mummy I wouldn’t be looked after and fed cucumber sandwiches.

But honestly. Sticking a needle, and threading cotton through my head and dangling me from the ceiling so that she can take a photo of me is just not on. Not for a bathful of melted chocolate mice is it on.

And do you know what happened next? Do you know what happened next? She was just about to take a photo of me when her phone rang and she disappeared leaving me dangling from the ceiling. Mr Smiley Face Sunshine tried to be helpful he really did. He suggested that I take the opportunity to practice flying, so I flapped my wings so very very hard but that just made me spin around and around and around really really fast until I was so very very dizzy.

I was so very completely filled up with the angers. And I could do nothing. Absolutely nothing. I cried out to Oxford for help and told him in no uncertain terms that the way I was being treated was unacceptable for an owl of my status and that Mummy needed to take some lessons from Judith Kerr who never treated Mog this way.

And do you know what Oxford said! Do you know what he said? He said “No, little Octavia, you are absolutely right. She didn't hang Mog from string, but she did kill her off!”

OH!