George and Lola

George and Lola enjoy a chewy bone together after mauling each other (and Dom) over whether or not Lola should be allowed to sniff around and explore new territory or be forced to play against her will. George thought the latter. He thought wrong. Lola won. Note George's bewildered expression. 

George realises that Lola might love him if she notices him with chewy bone. He decides to bury it anyway. He will return with it in a week or so, soggy and muddy and plonk it on the previously cream carpet.

Lola goes to town on her chewy bone. If George at any point existed, he no longer does.

They have spied the chicken. They cannot have the chicken however, as they are in jail.

"Come on Lola, pleading eyes! And whimper. We must whimper for one whole hour and then we will have the chicken. All the chicken."

George wants Lola to love him back. Lola wants the sofa to herself.

George brings home a slimy friend

The friend was thankfully unharmed (as was George). In fact the only one who seemed to suffer through the ordeal was me as I chased a toad around my dining room with a glass bowl! George (locked in the hallway with shoes aplenty) was his usual dazed and confused self. The vet assured me that the wailing that ensued was simply George upset about losing yet another friend and not a result of toxic toad slime. He searched the garden for about an hour before trotting back in to tell me off and chew a cardigan. Throughout the evening he would stop and grumble in my general direction every 20 minutes or so. I gave him a broad bean and he forgave me. He's easily pleased.