A very meticulous and orderly gent, he would follow a morning routine of:
outdoor adventure time(back door)
outdoor adventure time(front door)
snooze the day away whilst his humans were slaving away in order to keep him in the lap of luxury to which he was entitled.
One morning, however, there was a problem.
It was......the attack of the sticky poo......(dun dun DUN!!!)
After his morning whoopsie, he appeared to walking as if he had an enormous carrot betwixt his buttocks. It seemed that a turd had not fully escaped his rectum. He was bundled outside, rather briskly and unceremoniously, to tidy himself up.
Unfortunately, he came back in the same predicament.
It was up to his humans to assist and help him regain his dignity.
He was gathered up, and his posterior was displayed to all and sundry. And there it was. The sticky poo. Attached to the poor baron's haunch, and from it was a long human hair, disappearing up into his puckered anus. To what depths it is not known.
His Mummy, armed with a paper towel, gently and lovingly removed the offending faecal matter, and cautiously, with one continual motion, pulled the hair out of his little bottom hole.
The relief was palpable.
The Baron, thus unencumbered, scampered off, head held high, to enjoy a relaxing day.
And the sticky poo has not darkened his doorstep again.