Dog and newspapers
When I was packing to move, I wrapped all my crockery and glassware and breakable ornaments in newspaper — it’s how we did it when I was a kid and we moved every few years. Mum had trained me well in the wrapping and nothing ever got broken.
So with this move, every time I unpacked a few boxes, I had a pile of newspaper, and after unpacking one or two boxes, I’d gather it up from the floor and take it outside to the recycle bin.
Or more accurately, she supervised, checking to see that no creature was lurking among the papers. Because you never know . . .
She’s very protective like that.
And when I’d get up to make a cuppa, she guarded the pile from thieves and other bad people — and dogs.
Keeping an eye out. Just in case.
Apparently piles of newspaper are fun. I know this because once, when the recycle bin was full and I left a pile of the stuff on the floor overnight, I was woken by someone cavorting in paper . . .
Not that it was Milly, oh no. Would a dog be so frivolous in the night? Surely not!