“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"
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
She took one look at it all and loved it. She spent the rest of the evening resolutely making friends, and even accepted the nasty lead round the neck and swaggered about.
There were Peke puppies, which most Pap puppies approach as challenging and possibly dangerous puzzles - sorta explosive Rubik cubes. Velvet was stymied. She inspected both ends of an obliging young Peke and still couldn`t figure out what it was. She made the usual Papillon compromise in the face of a difficult situation and decided to bark it senseless. Ella was not sure either, but at last decided that at least it had the correct type of face.
Riot ran up to it (at the correct end) and asked it to please, please play with her. (Which she had done to every other dog there.)
She had an evening of play and when I got them home I let them out for a run. Ella and Velvet came back in - but no Riot.
I investigated and found a small furry mound on the doorstep. She was sound asleep.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
They have very different attitudes.
V elvet, like her mother is, to put it mildly, enthusiastic....or, as most people would put it, lunatic. Ella, on the other hand, is unsure of big dogs, but obsessed by food. Both will require a little work.
I took both to a large open show recently. All kinds of dogs were there, and we found a place entirely surrounded by Siberians, many already bored enough to howl fervently. Ella tried to ignore them. Velvet screamed abuse at them, and then turned to reassure her friend that they had been dealt with. Ella was not convinced, and as we walked on, and Velvet stood on her hind legs to sniff the butt of a mercifully oblivious large deerhound, the little Chin gave me a look that clearly said "I am not with that pointy faced gaijin nutter".
Velvet in the ring was even more....enthusiastic, bouncing instead of walking, totally uncooperative on the table. Meanwhile, Ella had discovered that everyone had food. She crept on to my friend`s lap when the chicken appeared, giving her melting looks that clearly said "I am yours for ever - or until that runs out anyway". When the chap behind us produced a bag of sausage, she climbed over both of us and announced to him that she was now his dog - and did he have more of that lovely stuff at home? If he did, how soon could they go there?
I now had to take Merlin in. As usual he stood on the table with the attitude of a Victorian lady who is in dire need of her smelling salts. The kindly Irish judge, thinking he could do with some encouragement, gave him a big cuddle. Merlin was appalled. The more so as the man then examined his personal bits. He spent the rest of his time in the ring scowling at the person who had made those untoward advances and understandably did not do well. I returned him to his canvas crate, in which Boris was methodically digging an escape hole ( we will not go into Boris` escapade in the ring, involving creating an enormous puddle right in the middle of it), and returned to rescue Ella`s latest victim - she was now stalking people for their food as intensely as a vampire out for blood. I removed my altogether deplorable brood.
Solitaire has more to occupy her at the moment. and seems permanently puzzled by motherhood - how did it happen, what is she to do with these peculiar little beings., and could that nasty dog who did unspeakable things to her have anything to do with it?
However, she is coping perfectly well.
(Better than I am, when she asks out at 5am yet again.....)