Poor me. Those bottae-cleansing sessions in the servants’ ‘spa’ seem to have become a weekly thing now.
Really I don’t see why we have to bother, except of course that if I’m honest, I do like the clean feeling afterwards and things are generally more pleasant in the under-tail-regions now.
As an added bonus I do get to see a bit of that rather dishy Bouffe, who does send me the choicest carrot each morning as a token of his devotion and esteem. I reckon I am going soft a little and I couldn’t resist a little sniff and nosebump while I was on my cushion drying after my bath!
I don’t mind telling you that I was so impressed with his prowess with the seagrass ball I had to hide under the sofa for the next half hour to hide my blushes.
Reader, I intend to marry him!
The Bunnington Post 