Mrs Tittlemouse,” said the smiling Mr Jackson (The Tale of Mrs Tittlemouse, Beatrix Potter).
I have been just like Mrs Tittlemouse today. She was a most terribly tidy particular little mouse, always sweeping and dusting. After a event involving Mr Jackson the toad and a nest of bumblebees, she was obliged to spring clean. She swept, and scrubbed, and dusted; and she rubbed up the furniture with beeswax, and polished her little tin spoons.
Then she had a party. Good on you, Mrs Tittlemouse, that’s what I shall do.
Squiffany came to call. ‘Hello’ I said joyfully. Tilly came rushing through. We had a visitor and she hadn’t heard. Bark, bark bark. Ah, it’s family, sorry, I’ll go back to eating dinner, was Tilly’s demeanour.
“Uh” went an amused baby, “Uh, uh, uh” – “what did Tilly say?” I asked. “Uh, uh, uh” said Squiffany, laughing.
Try it, it sounds more like a dog’s bark than ‘woof’ any day.