Ady Breeds Dog's Breakfast www.sunlive.co.nz

The cold doesn't seem to bother some of my canine colleagues, such as Bellamy the St Bernard.

The boss and I bumped into him the other day – probably the coldest day you would ever want to go for a walk in – and there he was, waist deep, which is over my head, in the frigid waters of the Tauranga Harbour. I hope he was headed back to a cosy duvet. I certainly was.

Mad Chad with the shoe fetish.

There are many canine-versus-owner disputes going on this time of the year over the control of duvets.

The latest comment on SunLive from Karla, a Doberman, is about issues with her boss about which corner she can have – all four corners is not the right answer apparently.

Meanwhile, a similar issue developed during a sleepover I had at Uncle's place this week, which did not quite go to plan due to the duvet issue and a mad cat.

This week the boss had his ugly mug adjusted at the dentist, so he could not look after me in the manner I have become accustomed. The old boss man looked like he had been smacked around the laughing gear by Tiger's ex, that Scandinavian stunner, wielding a 7 iron – he wishes – as he said to me that would have made any pain worth while.

So with glee, I leapt into Uncle's Jeep and headed off to the Te Puna Hilton for some of Auntie's fine cooking and hospitality. It's always an adventure staying with my surrogate bosses, but just not quite the same without my mentor, Big D around.

Anyway, they have been starved of animal therapy and have also been invaded by ‘Mad Chad' the black cat without a hat.

It was out of the Jeep post haste for a little 'Chad chasing”, which is really good fun until he stops…having him sitting on my nose is not in the rule book and the game has to be called off.

Not to be deterred by a mad German on the rampage, he starts up with another fetish of his called the 'The Shoe Shine” – see picture. First he saunters around a shoe, pretending he cannot see it. Then, in a flash, he descends from a great height and rips the daylights out of it.

Then off he goes – in case the shoe mounts a counter offensive. After a few minutes of cooling off he starts the entire process again.

Weird feline behaviour.

I was completely baffled by his performance and began wondering if he had been into that chemically enhanced catnip, ‘Katonic'. Total lunacy, but then he is a cat, so some sort of sympathy is in order.

Later that evening, I found it necessary to visit the potty. Auntie was none to happy about opening the door at 3am and even less pleased when I decided there was a duck on the estuary that needed a tune up. How was I to know Te Puna was not like The Strand and good folk out this way actually sleep at that hour? Puh!

The duck was dispatched into the night sky and I was bundled, very un-ceremoniously, inside and told to sleep on the bean bag in the wash house. Are you kidding me?

There is no Labrador to keep me warm anymore so tears and bitch-whinging was the order.

It was not long before they caved in; the duvet was mine, with the only impediment being Uncle's ‘deep breathing' exercises to stop a restful remainder of the night.

Thanks all and see you next week, remember the lesson for this week:
The duvet is yours.