“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"
Monday, November 21, 2011
I went down on that most desperate of trains, a Virgin cross country, expecting the worst, but possibly things have improved, or my memory is failing......or more likely, the journey was shorter than usual. My views on Virgin trains have been aired before on this blog. But this time I only had to fight one person for my seat, a tea trolley actually arrived, and I got the last sandwich, both coming and going. ("Fish suppers - aye, you wish!" called the man with the trolley, offering the lonely faded sad roll with lots of wilted leaves and a shy wisp of ham).
The show was good, and really well run, with eight rings going like clockwork - except mine, where I felt bound to make up some of the time a previous judge had squandered on a handful of entries. I felt very, very tired by the time I had done the group, but I did get there with, I hope, not too many mistakes and only one growl from an aged Pug. No-one complained, or threw things, so I assume wax figurines resembling me and pins are not being sought by the exhibitors.
I am quite pleased at having managed this, and now only disappointed that I will miss LKA due to a transport failure. In short, I am looking forward to getting back into the swing of all things doggy.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
There was a nightmare hiatus when I had one of the wounds checked at my local Health Centre and the nurse said she would like a doctor to look at it. Well, OK - but the doctor was very young and inexperienced, and took one look and panicked and said it had to be seen by a surgeon. Cue a seven hour wait to see one at the local hospital, during which ordeal I was signed in to a surgical ward 3 times by 3 different educationally challenged nurses, before being told that all I needed was an antibiotic "which we don`t have". A search round the wards didn`t turn up any either. Another journey the next day to get it.
It was obvious that if I had to go in for another bigger operation the dogs would have to be farmed out to poor unsuspecting people who didn`t deserve it. I arranged it, and the Great Wash began. The old ladies were in an advanced state of shock. They wandered about warily, looking at each other.
"You look different. You smell different. Did she get you too?"
Alas, at their age, an unexpected bath usually means a visit to the vet, with the promise of needles, and thermometers stuck where no glass tube should ever go. They were an unhappy clean bunch.
I had Tamara literally poised over the hot soapy water when the phone rang, and I was told that no further op would be necessary. As an act of celebration I let her off. She ran out and the others glared at her. How had she escaped?
Meanwhile Angel puppy has achieved her aim - she has seen off her brothers, who have gone to their new homes. She is very satisfied and smug. And at training class she does everything really well, with a great bias towards cute overload. and a huge appetite for chicken.....
If only she would not insist on throwing up all the chicken on the way home, it would all be perfect....
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
All 3 puppies are dedicated knee sitters. But with Maximus, you get just a little more than a warm puppy. Every few minutes you are treated to something else, a little whiff of an unmistakable scent which has little to do with air freshener.....
Yes, like his mum, Maximus is a serial wind breaker. I am well used to her efforts as she sits on my feet in the evening, but I never thought it could be inherited.
Something tells me that if he has to go to a new home, this will not be a strong selling point....