“WHAT`S THAT, BOY? TIMMY`S FALLEN DOWN THE WELL?”...
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM…
Happy New Year
MAD AS A BOX OF FROGS
OFF WE GO!
EMAIL ME .
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"
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Truly made a short journey south to enrol in the Pudding Club and is now looking very thoughtful.....when not thumping other bitches to whom she now feels superior.
Storm and Shadow are looking for good homes - not too hard, unfortunately. Occasionally, when really stressed, I threaten them with being offered at a car boot sale as an unrepeatable BOGOF.
Merlin has at last developed a personality, if not a brain, and may yet walk on the lead without that look on his face that suggests a turkey which has just had Christmas explained to it in detail. He has had a coat explosion, and resembles an animated haystack.
It`s that time of year again. I visit all my relatives for an epic blowout, and they all nag. "How can you live away out there? Do you at least have a guard dog?"
Well, Shelby is greatly insulted by that. He is always on guard, using the classic Chin method of dealing with intruders. He stands stock still and stares them down with those enormous eyes. "You are being studied by an adult male Chin...be very afraid." It really freaks out the postman, who sorta knows where he is with the rest of the pack jumping up and down and screaming, but tries to avoid the basilisk stare.
I was recently in a village a bit upriver where I used to live, and was reminded of the Great Guard Dog scandal there.
There was a little Asian local shop, open all hours, stocks everything. Everything included booze and cigarettes, and this made the poor shopowner a target for thieves. There were regular burglaries. He made a little caged room and put the bottles and fags in there, but they still got in.
Eventually he got a guard dog. Roy the Rescue Rottie. He was neutered, and gentle as a baby, but this was kept secret. At night he had a comfortable soft bed in the caged area with the cigarettes stacked floor to ceiling and the alcohhol. There were no more break- ins. All trouble ceased.
Until the Health and Safety inspection, when the dreadful truth came to light.
In there all night, with his bowl of water and bed, Roy the RR had freely given way to....well, to basic urges. No, he hadn`t smoked the fags. He had urinated on them. Regularly. In his nocturnal version of Tai Chi leg elevations he could reach quite high up......
And not one local had noticed. They had bought and smoked the....impregnated....fags with relish. Probably they had noticed a little extra tang and appreciated it. You could imagine a special local problem in trying to give up smoking - a nicotine patch would not be quite enough, and they don`t make patches for the other ingredient -yet.
R the RR was relegated to his true vocation of children`s pet. The shop was closed down "for renovations". And I left the area about that time.
Well, as I said, it`s that time again. And here I sit relaxing with a pot of Tesco`s "Captain Scott`s Extra Strong Blend as used on his 1912 expedition". Yes , really. I can only hope the tea benefits me more than it evidently did him. (One hopes it was not one of the reasons for Captain Oates saying that he "was just going outside and might be some time"..... )
And with that I wish you a Very Merry Christmas !
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Due to the *no bag" policy, I take a shopping trolley of the "bag on wheels" variety. I bring it home, and the first thing out for dog treats is the sausage roll packet.
My dogs regard this trolley with awe and longing. It is obviously packed with sausage rolls. It just produces them at will like a cornucopia. Perhaps at the bottom lurk a breeding pair, huge and probably hairy, scuttling about and turning out endless litters of little sausage rolls........
The other day I dozed off in front of another scintillating evening of Beeb programming. I woke to see what appeared to be a large puddle of congealed blood over in the corner. I stared and tried to focus. What had happened? What dog had died? Obviously not the ones dancing about in here.
The puppy ran over and picked up the "puddle". It was in fact a large piece of red cellophane, just the right colour for blood. Where had he got it?
I went to the kitchen and all was revealed. At last the dogs had had a chance to get into the trolley - unlimited sausage rolls!
In fact they had been sorely disappointed. The total haul had been 3 tins of beans (toothmarked) and one very battered , sad and perforated Christmas pud. It had been wrapped in red cellophane and very thoroughly investigated.
I had bought it for a dog show raffle, just to make a change from bottles. Especially the ones you see and recognise at once as Eternal Raffle Vintage. You can recognise them by the slightly scuffed labels. People have won them, looked at them and decided "I`m not drinking THAT! It`s going in the next raffle !" And so the unwanted wine begins its travels, voyaging like the Flying Dutchman from raffle to raffle, never finding rest in a glass. There are twenty year old bottles of Hirondelle and Blue Nun out there, circulating endlessly...just look closely at the next raffle you buy a ticket for.
Fortunately the Paps had not attempted to eat the pud - I shudder to think of the after-effects of that. But I had to rush out for a replacement.....
While I was out I picked up two packets of Extra Value Sausage Rolls....