“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"
Saturday, September 17, 2011
All I had was a covering of leaves, and the contents of a planter sitting intact, like a large posy, on the doormat. Clearly the planter itself had felt the urge to travel, and was probably in the next county. Things do travel here in the wind. I remember checking after one really bad storm, and stopping in shock to see my large garden shed, intact and unharmed, and looking rather surprised, sitting in the middle of my neighbour`s field, like a shabby Tardis.
Stormy times with the puppies too, who are well into the puppy battle stage, and growl and pull tails furiously. I already have a dominant dog, and a very sweet girl. The other lad is very laid back and probably a bit of a numpty.
The other week a friend visited, and the puppies came out. Angel, the girl, ran to be picked up by the stranger. The dog couldn`t take his eyes off the car. His hackles rose. He ran at the car and barked and growled furiously. He barked so hard, all his feet left the ground with each bark. At last he stopped, and studied the vehicle. Then the boy, who at five weeks was the size of a really large guinea pig (with legs), trotted back to me and wagged his tail. "I`ve sorted that, mum. You`ll have no more trouble with it.".
He is definitely one to watch.