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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"

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

RIVERDANCE 

The show season has lurched into motion yet again and so it was that I found myself decanted from a bus at an unholy hour into the car park of a dark and frosty agricultural centre, to be assailed at once by dark and rich agricultural smells.

There were instant cries of horror at this pungent reminder of what cattle do best.

I said it was a good honest country smell.

"It`s got to be the worst country smell in the world, then"

I said mildly that no, it wasn`t - the worst I could remember was when the knacker`s man didn`t come for the dead ewe for six days one hot June. When he did come he made the immortal remark:

"Aye, nothing goes off quicker than a deid yowe."

Silence on country smells after that.

Florian and his brother did well. Florian is really getting the hang of this showing business and concentrated with all his little might. He also made repeated efforts to urinate on my leg, leading me to do a strange spasmodic intermittent version of Riverdance......a very appropriate name, under the circumstances.

I remarked to another exhibitor, "Did you see that? He`s developing quite a strong character - arrogance is what he needs in the ring."

And then I thought - what am I saying? If a dog cocks its leg on a person, the normal response is a well-placed boot which will inhibit his piddling ,and indeed his reproductive aspirations for months to come . Just how much has dogshowing warped my brain? Would a normal person be parading in a public hall with a small manifestly incontinent dog, wearing a black jacket embroidered with sequinned butterflies? (That`s me, not the dog, folks.......we haven`t gone that far downhill yet.) Should I seek help before it`s too late? ........

Further adventures with Red Sofa to come later.
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