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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"

Thursday, March 05, 2009

`TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE.... 

....Crufts, of course and the shampoo and conditioner are flying about and small dogs are hiding in corners at the perfumed smell of them.

Merlin was taken for his final makeover yesterday, and seemed bit more resigned to total immersion and general beauty treatment than usual. When he came back, beautiful and lustrous, he was again allowed to meet his Dad and Aunt Daisy, this time through the mesh of their run.

Leo, his dad, was furious. He strode about trying to find a way out to get to Merlin. Was this little squirt too thick to understand the message he had clearly placed on his yellow travelling box the last time?

Daisy, on the other hand, remembered him only too well and was assuring him that she was all his in no uncertain terms. She posed and flirted and his ego shot skywards. He was so well pleased with himself that I suddenly wondered if he had learned the lesson that comes so hard to many adolescnt males - the one about making a real effort with your appearance and the effect it can have on girls.....? Does he think that a beauty bath makes girls fall at your feet? Has he been watching those TV ad for a certain male deodorant?

Knowing Merlin`s tenuous grasp on reality he proabably thinks she loves him for his mind.
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