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Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.
"IN DOG YEARS, I`M DEAD"

Saturday, March 13, 2004

WAITING DAYS 

Day after the Spanish atrocity, with blame apportioned at the moment as is convenient politically - good for Bush/Blair to blame the muslim fundamentalists, good for the Spanish Govt. to blame ETA. And really they don`t know. I admire the Spanish people for taking to the streets about it.......they wouldn`t do that here.

Dogs are a comfort. They don`t ask much and they give a lot. I keep telling myself that and someday I may even believe my own platitudes. I`m watching Vomit, sleeping upside down in a dogbed with her legs sticking up. The moment she came back from her visit to the stud she decided that she was a Mother now and would take care of herself. Gone are the days of illicit field excursions and chasing cats. Now she sits and stares into space and I know she is mentally knitting little pastel things, with neat crocheted holes for tails......boy is she in for a rude awakening!

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