Two men, alone, a bachelor pad in a big city...

...what could go wrong? You might well ask! Ms E left us, to pursue her artistic inclinations on some 'faily' pet project of her own (claimed she been invited to some fancy dan 'event', a likely story); I knew she'd soon find that the real world was a cold and lonely place and come back begging to have her place in the pack restored. I'm a kind-hearted terrier so I knew I'd not resist her pleas. All the more reason to live it up in her absence! What I'd not counted on was the monstrous feebleness of Mr E. No sooner had we the place to ourselves and the night ahead of us than he succumbed to what he claimed was 'a cold'. Pah. Didn't stop him tap, tap, tapping on the keyboard; did stop him chauffeuring me around Rome's louchest hotspots, and whooping it up with the very cute girls who woof suggestively at me every day... I had such a boring time that I was actually glad to see Ms E stroll unconcernedly through the door as if she'd never left. I might have nipped her a bit just to show I could do without her, but as it happened I didn't even have the heart for the traditional terrier cold-shoulder. She said she flew back on a plane called Florence Nightingale. All I can say is it was like a Crimean War hospital here, and I'm no doggy with a lamp! I wasn't at all swayed to allow her back into the Entourage by the gifts she brought. Not at all...