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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"

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

THE PRODIGAL SON 

Marcus is back and settled in. The fattening up process is well under way - I`m using Periactin, high energy dog food, hamburger and Tesco economy pork sausages. These last are a big hit, being full of low quality meat, rusk and fat not to mention unknown murky additives.

Florian, on the other hand, has a worried look. He must be better read in his Bible than I thought. He has stayed with me and faithfully done his little best for me at all those shows - now the prodigal has returned and been welcomed and the fatted Tesco sausage has been killed. He is no doubt watching with bated breath for the arrival of the whole calf...

Marcus doesn`t care. He is spending a lot of time lazing about, stuffed and somnolent, too full to open his eyes until the next sausage appears.

Florian would dearly like to tell him just where to put that sausage.

But I have a distraction for Florian. The beautiful and enticing Tamara is in season. Could this be it for our innocent boy? Can he give up "covet the sausage" for "hide the salami"? Could he at last lose it?

Or will I have to give the prodigal the willing girl as well as the fatted calf?

Watch this space.....
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