“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!
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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, November 25, 2010
The other morning I woke shaking from a horrible nightmare. All the girls, even the neutered old ladies, had come into season at once - and Shelby had had them all. It took me a moment to shake off the vision of the horrendous second mortgage I would need to pay off the vet`s bill for that one.
And then I thought....my nightmare must be Shelby`s favourite dream, possibly even one he dreams every night. Is he practising telepathy? Or trying mind control, like Svengali with Trilby? Well, it will be a long time before I give in to that one.
Fidget is just growing out of the notion that every show is a barkfest. We had a slight setback at the one where a ruby anniversary was celebrated with bunches of red balloons. They bobbed and swayed and glistened, and Fidget, who knew they were Martians, stared at them with bulging eyes, and barked himself hoarse.
The next one was in a huge unheated cowshed. A gesture had been made with four tiny industrial heaters, round which the multitudes huddled. I havd never been so cold, and even Fidget was silenced.....or else his barking apparatus had frozen solid, like my feet and hands. We might as well have been out on the Polar ice, and sometimes I do wonder what organisers visualise when they plan events.
Another show (and it has to be warmer!) this weekend, and with luck Fidget will realise he is not auditioning for X Factor, but entering a hairy four-legged Mr Universe competition.
I think it would help if I could develop some of Svengali`s power - preferably by this weekend.