“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"
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Fidget, having shocked me by refusing honey roast ham as a titbit in the ring, was his usual bouncy self, wanted to play with all the other dogs, and amazingly was well placed. Merlin was delighted to be able to help him out with the ham....
I learned that someone who obviously encountered an unprepared judge, was told that her bitch, within the size limits in the standard, was "unfit for function" as she was at the small end of the range. My immediate thought was that there are quite a few judges out there who are "unfit for function". Then I wondered how you would really test a Papillon`s fitness for function.
What was the basic function they were bred and kept for? They were the lapdogs of the French nobility and royalty.
So in order to test that, you would require an authenticated descendant of French royal blood. Then I suppose, that person would have to be willing to provide a lap for a Papillon, and to rate said Papillon on how comfortable, agreeable and affectionate it was in that position.....perhaps on a scale of 1 to 10? Perhaps the KC could provide a certificate for this?
I asked Ella how fit for function she was. She informed me that her sole function was to consume cake and chicken, while in a position of supreme comfort.
She then offered to prove her fitness for function immediately, and was quite sulky when I told her I would take it on trust for now
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Having been very tied in by them, it was good to get out to a very local open show with Fidget. I had almost forgotten what open shows were like.....
Well, this one was different. We arrived a little late, to discover that nothing was happening. The booking had gone somehow awry. The secretary, drinking from a hot steaming cup, advised us with a bright smile that the caterers "hadn`t come".
We all watched the rings being set up with the nasty edge to our attitude that came from escalating caffeine deprivation and impending starvation. Eventually the catalogues arrived, and a queue formed. Comments were being made which I will not repeat here...
Fidget however was enjoying himself, and despite a very slippery floor and being placed 3 rd, swaggered a lot . And I had found relatives willing to feed me Earl Grey and biscuits. And outside the sun shone. And I had at last got out of the house for a morning. Things weren`t too bad after all.
Home to a very sulky Solitaire, who expects my constant attention. The puppies appeared to have grown visibly in my absence. They all settled down to putting away vast amounts of food.
And so did I.