“WHAT`S THAT, BOY? TIMMY`S FALLEN DOWN THE WELL?”...
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM…
Happy New Year
MAD AS A BOX OF FROGS
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"
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The war of the brush and comb is certainly going my way, and grooming is done, punctuated by Chin warbles of outrage and a lot of squirming. Alas, a thick cover of snow makes it hard to deal with the other problem at the moment. But the strong will prevail - and that`s me. She has had a great deal of practice in perfecting Cute, and expects to get everything from one glance of those big astonished eyes.
Well, quite often it works.
Apart from that, a white Christmas looks inevitable, and I prefer those on cards. And when I look at those snowscene cards, I am amazed that they never show anyone clearing paths to the gate, looking out bits of old carpet to put under the wheels of stuck cars, (I think I am cut off from anything on wheels at the moment), and (very festive this) chopping frozen coal with a hammer and a lot of curses.
Meanwhile, I`m off back to bed.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Another flatface - well, the Paps just see her as a little girl who may be young enough to yet recover from the nasty accident to her face. She is as bold as brass, and won over Velvet`s jealousy - no longer my only little girl - by insisting on playing. She has also played relentlessly with the tearaway Truly toddler, now known as Flair, actually tiring her out, and thereby winning a vote of thanks from her mother, who has been reduced to taking refuge on chairs her loud demanding offspring can`t quite reach ....yet.
Flair, alas, has inherited her father`s voice, the one thing everyone who uses him at stud prays he will not pass on. She is a foursquare fat pushy item, constantly demanding attention in a strange rusty bark which startles adults, but which, alas, I recognise only too well.
Ella, on the other hand, is exactly as impossibly cute and cuddly as she looks.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Truly`s daughter grows and grows. She had a good start and made the most of an unlimited milk supply. One visitor looking in on mother and enormous daughter commented that "the cuckoo certainly laid in that nest....possibly a Pyrenean one" Truly, who knew better, stared back smugly. The puppy gazed up through rolls of fat, a witness to the awesome potential of a milk diet. Her growth will soon throttle back when mother`s supply dries up and she actually has to depend on food.
Christmas came early for Solitaire....well, she might not see it that way. This time her visit to a dog was successful - well, eventually. She enjoyed all his tentative attempts, obviously thinking this sex game was really fun. Then the great event actually happened.
She was appalled. This was nothing like the romantic vision she had been cherishing. (I shoud never have allowed her to read all that Mills and Boon). She rolled her eyes at all those humans who had betrayed her into this situation, and screamed abuse at the unfortunate male, who was totally puzzled, having quite enjoyed himself. (Any of you out there thinking "how like life", please keep your experiences to yourself as I feel far too fragile these days for Too Much Information).
If all went well, January should give her something else to worry about altogether......