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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, May 02, 2004

SPAGHETTI JUNCTION 

A sleepless night, during which we had a rushed visit to the vet with a puppy passing blood and other unmentionables. Vet on duty was fortunately Clever Hans, very methodical, very German and quite good-looking - we had a dispiriting discussion on the impossibility of accurately dosing a 500gm puppy, and I went home with very strong wormer and ditto aprehension.

Administered it and sat up till 4, during which time acres of squirming spaghetti were deposited - enough to fill a small Heinz can, anyway By 3am the really ailing puppy was free of it and inviting his brother to play in the time-honoured puppy manner, by hitting him on the head repeatedly with his paw - the latter squatting with his face screwed up in deep thought as unspeakable things went on in his insides. Things the "cute puppy" people don`t tell you. Anyway, this morning all is well, and I am knackered.

Found out a little about the Guardian Blog awards. It seems it helps if you are:

a) A politician

b) A prostitute

c) Anyone with any connection to Iraq

d) A journalist

Can see how (a) (b) and (d) could easily combine - indeed are often indistinguishable - but feel I am too old to attempt any of the above.

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