The servants get the night off

Occasionally we get out of the house much to the disgust of our furry and feathered family members.  Pets know when you are going away.  They see the suitcases come out.  Bennie immediately adopts his sad eyes look and hangs his head over the top of the stairs to maximise the downward looking effect.  Previously when we've gone away for a night we've come home to goats in the rose garden, chickens fighting and a trail of cat vomit throughout the house.  They punish you when you go away.  So a night in a hotel with no responsibilities and someone putting food and drink in front of us is pure bliss.  We didn't hear any roosters in the morning, during the night no one was snoring on the floor beside our bed and we weren't choking from all the cat fur on the blankets.  We didn't have to separate our food leftovers into a bucket for the chooks and during breakfast, nobody sat beside us on the floor whimpering for toast crusts.  By the time we get home some are pleased to see us.  Bennie is excited as all dogs are to see their owner but Max not such much.  He refuses to acknowledge us and we get the 'speak to the tail because the face ain't listening' routine until he can be bothered mustering enough energy to scream at us for food.  The chickens come running as fast as they can on their little Pekin legs like a herd of tiny dinosaurs all complaining about the delay in getting their dinner.  Sure is good to get home...but no wonder we need a break occasionally.  Cheers.