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.

Saturday, February 14, 2009


Recovering from last night`s party - a surprise one for my cousin`s 70th. It had been in preparation for weeks, with enormous efforts to keep it from him almost causing a total breakdown of communication at home. A buffet was secretly prepared in the Bowling Club next door, a cake was secretly baked, and all guests warned to let nothing slip,

This worked so well, that by 8pm, with all the guests assembled, everyone was trying to think of a way to get him to the party. He had settled in for the night. Eventually he was told that his son-in law, a very temperate soul, had been plied with booze in the Club to the extent that he was now "blootered" and someone had to get in there and drag him out. Why he was convinced by this totally implausible tale I do not know, but in he came, loaded for bear, to be greeted by loud cheers and congratulations.

The guests were a strange mix. That is, strange to each other.

The relatives had arrived in large cars and designer clothes, and were gazing in amazement at the dog folk. The latter had also made some effort - one or two were dressed up in party clothes, most had worn what they would if they were reasonably sure of winning the CC at Houndshow, and quite a few had looked out a clean fleece. They also outnumbered the relatives, and the latter. sure that they had at last made landfall on the planet Zog, retreated to the bar.

I was in the happy position of being about the only person there, apart from the birthday boy, who knew everyone. I could chat to one lot about childhod memories, and to the next about the impossibilities of the KC revision of the Frenchie standard. I had a good evening, and so had the birthday boy, who thoroughly enjoyed it all.

And there was a cake. A deerhound cake, with a picture of Grouse, a dog we had both owned, winning his 3rd CC. Any dog person could see that he was bending down to adjust the dog`s hind foot position....the relatives could only speculate wildly as to why he was so interested in the animal`s rear end , and why the dog was so much more more prominent than he was in the picture....indeed why there should be a dog on a cake at all.

All in all, great fun. The vast and excellent buffet was not all consumed - and I expect you know exactly where the leftovers went.
Doggie bags were never more appropriate.

By the way, from here it seems as though your blog was silent for a long time and then suddenly all these posts appear.
Well, I try to keep the tone light - and sometimes life isn`t too amusing. sometimes I`m not too well. It can be difficult to see the light side. At the moment I`m suffering a bad chest infection - but I don`t think people want to read about that.
I`m also a very political person - but there are enough pol blogs about.
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