My pet: World Cup obsession is barking

Abbie Hunter

Abbie Hunter - Credit: Archant

When does one leave home?

Football fever is hitting new heights and I’m heading for the door.

It’s the evenings that get me. For a dog of my reputation I should be out exchanging in sophisticated conversation with the mutt stars of the silver screen.

But no, I’m in, stranded on my silk quilted bed as yet another game starts.

The World Cup has turned my human person, Matt, into a ball.

It’s not one I can run after; no, he just sits there eyes on the screen, soaking up the TV pundits’ matey banter.

Times are hard for dogs everywhere. My hopes rise every time Matt gets up and heads to the kitchen. But it’s no lead he brings back. Just another can of beer or salted snack packet.

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I mean, who’s ever heard of Honduras?

Escaping just for an hour I managed to catch Margot the dalmatian from Milden for a chat. But I was in for a shock.

Her elegance gone, her status in tatters. What I saw was barely comprehensible.

Spots gone, she said she was being patriotic in all white. Her collar, usually a pearly number, had been shredded, for a England-inspired bargain basement fitting.

Uncouth and crass, she’s off my Christmas card list.

I fared no better with Frank the labrador from Leiston. Somehow he has got fatter!

Now, not content with a waistline the size of a tug boat he now boarders on resembling the Titanic.

But is it me? I haven’t been myself with my walkies regime on the landfill.

I think I need a holiday away from football and away from Matt.

Abbie Hunter lives near Stowmarket, with her human person, Matt

Write to her at

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