My dog Sunny has written many stories, and even some poems, expressing his observations about himself, about other dogs, about me, about life in general, and about the quirks of the human race.

Now that he is training to be a Therapy Dog, he is sharing his new experiences. Sometimes he answers reviewers himself, and thanks them for their kind comments. For a dog, he is doing well!

I do have to watch him. The other day he mentioned (perhaps a little proudly) that he sometimes gets six stars! Perhaps it’s my own attitude I need to watch. Did I feel a twinge of envy?

In recent times, an emu used my computer in his search for companionship and love. A platypus was upset that he had not had the opportunity – so he wrote his own story.

Next, a kangaroo wanted to talk about wildlife in Australia, with himself in the starring role. But he wrote at such length that the koala missed out. He had to have a story for himself.

Last night things went from bad to worse. A story was written on this very computer, and posted, by one of my plants – the one which is daring to climb up towards my roof, and is presenting me with the challenge of keeping it grounded. Alice-Amanda is her penname.

One of her tendrils must have entered through an open window. (Obviously one-tendril typing – she put in an unnecessary comma, which I later removed, thanks to an observant reviewer.)

It seems that my subscription to FanStory is covering all their literary attempts, as well as my own. I am not sure if Tom would approve.

However, I think something significant is happening. All this is apparently not normal. Other people’s plants don’t post (although they are supported by posts). I do know some pets write at times.

But so much animal and plant talk in just two weeks! These postings are doing my head in. Others are noticing ….

A man in a white coat came today to see me!

He asked me if it is really their writing ... or mine?  I don't know, of course! I tried to explain that, if it's my writing, they tell me what to write! He shook his head sadly. 

He says I must stop thinking like a dog! Or an emu, platypus, kangaroo or koala! He says it is a downhill slide to be thinking like a vine. What next?!

Oh dear. I just heard a voice saying, “What about me? I’m a wombat. I’ll miss out. People need to know about me too …!” And now I hear other whisperings … the golden wattle will be blooming soon – and she’s also a national emblem!

I am now about to close the window and lock my computer, (so no-one else can use it, of course!) and have a rest, with a cold cloth on my head. I hope that will help.