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.

Thursday, November 30, 2006


Still trailing back and forth to the doctor, I was in a great hurry the other morning, and not amused when a selection of dogs spotted something in the field above the house (possibly a fox), went tearing through the fence and ran about screaming with excitement, deaf to my shouts.

I became rapidly more and more angry, shouting through the hedge and obviously terrifying Postman Pat who arrived just in time to intercept the stream of abuse and threats and shot back into his red van like a rabbit down a burrow.

The people who planted trees in that field then, for reasons only known to them, enclosed it in the sort of fence used in Jurassic Park to keep in tyrannosaurs. Of course it is completely permeable to Papillons. But not to me.

At that point I lost it. I could feel myself turning green and my muscles enlarging. Incandescent with fury, I went for the large bolt cutters and carved a me-sized hole in the T-rex fence and through I went with the yard broom. The truants were appalled to see me on that side of the fence, and even more appalled as the hard bristles of the broom made contact with their backsides. I have never seen Sonja and the other Heroines of the Soviet Union move so fast.

I shut them away and raced off to try and make the appointment.

I suspect that a few of them preferred to stand while waiting for me to come home.

The appointment? I had to wait 70 minutes. So I went into Hulk mode again, tore a strip off the locum and made a formal written complaint.

As Dr Banner says, "You wouldn`t like to see me angry".
Actually I might... but from a safe distance! :)
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