Dear Mr Sainsbury,
I’m writing to you because I’m in the dog house, and – although I’m not one to pass the buck – basically it’s all your fault.
The problem is your home baked, icing topped, whirly pastries. They’re just so deliciously whirlicious! I can’t get enough of them and hence why I’m in the doghouse.
Let me explain – I’m a 12-year-old Labrador collie cross, arthritic hips, going deaf and slightly blind. But there’s nothing wrong with my nose, it can sniff out the enticing aroma of your delectable iced whirls before the shopping is out of the bag.
I smell them on the worktop contained in that neat little plastic tray and can think of nothing else, except the sweet sugary taste of the icing on the top and the way the pastry just melts in your mouth.
I’m drooling over the carpet now just remembering how divine they are. You see I’ve been lucky enough to devour a whole packet twice in a week. Yes twice!
I figure if my owner tells me she’s “just popping down the garage” and is stupid enough to leave your iced whirls tempting me from the worktop, then she’s asking for me – even with my arthritic hip – to jump up and grab them down. I knew I only had a few minutes, but I scoffed the lot – yummy!
I made the other dog Archie stand guard. He’s a terrier and his legs are too short to reach the worktop. I promised him a bit, but I lied – iced whirls are not for sharing.
And that’s why I’m in the doghouse. You see my owner didn’t want to share them either. When she got back the first time she was furious. She’d been really looking forward to enjoying them with a cup of tea after going for a long run earlier. She had to have plain biscuits instead. Oh my she was cross – I got banished to the backyard. Me! At my age!
Having been denied them once, she wasn’t going to the make the same mistake and leave them on the worktop again. Shame the phone rang when it did and she had to dash out – down to the garage again – as luck would have it.
Well, you can imagine how mad she was when she got home the second time in less than a week and found her favourite sticky buns had already been unstuck. Hell hath no fury like a woman who’s cakes have been scoffed, I can tell you.
To be honest, I thought I was doing her a favour – she’s always saying she eats too many cakes. You’d think she’d be pleased, but no.
The upshot of all this, is that now those iced whirls are going to be more tightly guarded than the gold deposits in Fort Knox. I’m not going to get a look in again, or even just the enticing fragrant aroma, let alone the whole melt in your mouth experience. But now that I’ve got a taste for your iced whirls, I don’t know how I’ll manage without them.
Please could you send a complimentary replacement supply and I might just get a piece – or perhaps you could make a doggy version. That would be awesome.
I’m enclosing a picture of me – those iced whirls might disappear in an instant – but as you can see butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.
I’ve pinched my owner’s computer this week to send out this yelp for help and try to make amends. Hope you see it. Sorry for any bad spelling and grammer miss-takes. I may be bright, but I am only a dog.
Wags and kisses – wet slobbery ones, they’re the best!