CUTE AND CUDDLY
KING AND COUNTRY
BUSES AND BABY POWDER
EWE-HAUL
ON THE BALL
RESERVOIR RAM
WOOF
SPAGHETTI JUNCTION
Still marooned here by puppies. I can only rush ...
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WHAT I`M READING...LE PAPILLON & LE PHALENE - GRAND COEURS EN PETIT TAILLE - Jean-Marie Vanbutsele
THE LAST FILM I SAW....
" PACIFIC RIM" - great fun. Gojira meets Neon Genesis Evangelion
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"
Thursday, June 17, 2004
I LOVE TO GO A-WANDERING
I am off to a championship show in the Borders this weekend. As you will have gathered, I don`t drive, so am to be picked up in a vanload of German Shepherds which will have come down from the Shetlands and we will then go on to collect the owner of the GSs, who lives in a static caravan with large dogs and rescue rats........you notice that I am being completely deadpan about this wildly improbable journey.
I have done worse. Years ago, when I was campaigning my favourite tiny evil bitch, I hitched a lift in a deerhound van. There I stod at midnight,at the crossroads with a very excited tiny animal in a dogbox and a roll of bedding - I was to bed down with the hounds in the back for the 400 mile journey to Richmond.
The first arrival was a police car. Lots of questions, to which I was obviously giving wildly improbable answers. At last I showed them by dogshow passes. "Sorry," they said. "We thought you were running away from home."
I was seriously flattered!
At last the van arrived, driven by a totally deerhound woman, all tweed and straight hair. She looked at my tiny contender.
"You`ve washed her!" she exclaimed.
Actually I had washed her twice, not liking the first result,and said so.
"Oh we NEVER wash the hounds! It`s SO bad for the coat!"
Carefully, so as not to betray shock, I asked for the ages of her hounds. I might sit in the back with a puppy, but I was damned if I would spend the next five or six hours in intimately close proximity to a veteran which hadn`t seen soap for seven years........
I draw a veil over the journey down. Deerhounds can be very affectionate.
O the way back we picked up a doyenne of the dog game, Anastasia, who must have been approaching ninety and was to travel back with us as there was a rail strike. She was to have the front seat, but on seeing the bedding in the back she cried "That looks so comfortable!" and climbed in with the dogs. "Wonderful woman," cooed my driver - "Curled up in the back there and fast asleep already - just like a hound herself!"
I was silent, lost on the farside of Planet Deerhound, with no word of comfort from NASA and the lifesupport fast running out.
I have done worse. Years ago, when I was campaigning my favourite tiny evil bitch, I hitched a lift in a deerhound van. There I stod at midnight,at the crossroads with a very excited tiny animal in a dogbox and a roll of bedding - I was to bed down with the hounds in the back for the 400 mile journey to Richmond.
The first arrival was a police car. Lots of questions, to which I was obviously giving wildly improbable answers. At last I showed them by dogshow passes. "Sorry," they said. "We thought you were running away from home."
I was seriously flattered!
At last the van arrived, driven by a totally deerhound woman, all tweed and straight hair. She looked at my tiny contender.
"You`ve washed her!" she exclaimed.
Actually I had washed her twice, not liking the first result,and said so.
"Oh we NEVER wash the hounds! It`s SO bad for the coat!"
Carefully, so as not to betray shock, I asked for the ages of her hounds. I might sit in the back with a puppy, but I was damned if I would spend the next five or six hours in intimately close proximity to a veteran which hadn`t seen soap for seven years........
I draw a veil over the journey down. Deerhounds can be very affectionate.
O the way back we picked up a doyenne of the dog game, Anastasia, who must have been approaching ninety and was to travel back with us as there was a rail strike. She was to have the front seat, but on seeing the bedding in the back she cried "That looks so comfortable!" and climbed in with the dogs. "Wonderful woman," cooed my driver - "Curled up in the back there and fast asleep already - just like a hound herself!"
I was silent, lost on the farside of Planet Deerhound, with no word of comfort from NASA and the lifesupport fast running out.
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