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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, March 08, 2005

THE WEEK BEFORE CRUFTS 

T`was the week before Crufts and all through the house, not a creature was stirring in fear of being hauled out for yet another bath and grooming. It`s all go folks. And this year one of mine even stands a chance of winning something! (It`s been a year or two.......)

Lets hope the judging (always a subject of controversy) is better than at last week`s show. The judge was chosen as a nice lad, really honest.........alas, as judging progressed it became evident that he was marching to the sound of a very distant and different drum indeed. Nothing made any sense, and we watched appalled. It got beyond the stage of acid comment. I think the low point was reached when the redoubtable lady responsible for the lunches called out,

"Plenty of carrots on the judge`s plate, now! They`re really good for the eyesight!"

Meanwhile I`m off again, to bath Decibelle and feed the puppies, now seven weeks and into everything. The little dog, tiny and sweet, is unfortunately and temporarily answering to "Mr. Lentil" (referring to his size and probable brain capacity. ) The girl is larger. A pushy bitch with a plain horsy face.

Her name, of course is "Camilla".
Comments:
He's gorgeous! I'd take him tomorrow. No, I won't send you my address *g*

Good luck at Crufts.
 
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