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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"

Sunday, April 18, 2004

ADVENTURES IN THE BACK PASSAGE 

Puppies growing apace, and one has his eyes open and when picked up stares with a knowing puppy stare which really means that he can`t focus yet. Fat and single minded they are at the maximum consumption stage and their mothers are inhallng food to keep up with the demand at the milk bar. Sig`s boy is huge and I have a tendency to call him Godzilla. He is so fat that when he rolls on his back he can`t right himself and struggles and waves his pudgy legs in the air like a furry beetle. But he never complains. He has an adorable blenheim spot bang in the middle of his forehead.

Q phoned and we discussed sadly the level of corruption in the fancy and how the last ticket winner was obviously lame, and what deals are being done. She is of the opinion that I "lost it" when I stopped breeding from the Grand Old Lady. Since the GOL is now rising 14 and her life goals now centre on eating a lot and sleepng in my bed, my career in dogs must have been on the skids for some time...... All very depressing.

Meanwhile a new crisis. No heat. The old stove is not drawing properly and producing smoke backblown into the room. I foresee a heartwarming episode of letting it go out (which I never do in winter) and cleaning it out. It is a complicated device, designed for very efficient burniing of coal, and has front, side and back passages to clean, in addition to the flue. The joys of yet again sticking my hand and arm up its back passage loom large, as does the prospect of tons of soot, much of it down my sleeve. I just pray there isn`t a dead bird stuck up there.

Wonder what the southern softie who left the country because the shops weren`t open twenty four seven would make of that.........?

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