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"
But fortunately not up it. A friend and I took some of our dogs to Loudon Hill, a dramatic volcanic plug that rears up out of the moorland in the neighbouring county, for a walk in new surroundings. Loudon Hill is popular with climbers, but we confined ourselves (thank goodness) to walking round the bottom, on what I think are old Iron Age fortifications.
On the way there I tried the experiment of Fidget and Angel travelling together. It was a failed experiment. Fidget announced repeatedly that he just could not stand the nasty little bitch, and eventually they were both very sick. Fidget is not normally sick, but I suspect he just wasn`t to be out done by her.
Of course they were both fine when they got out. Throwing up means no more to a healthy dog than a sneeze. It means quite a bit to the person who has to clean it up....
And off we went into the unknown. Fidget, once he realised he was in the company of two lovely bitches, was in his element. He rushed off to guard them. (They were less than impressed.) Angel, who probably had less confidence in my stamina, and may have been wondering where we were going, kept checking that I was still on my feet and coming. It was clear she really cared for me.....after all, if I dropped dead on the hill, who was going to feed her?
Actually I coped quite well, and was pleased with myself. I am definitely getting better.
It was a lovely walk, and the views were spectacular.
I was exhausted when I got home.
Angel and Fidget were not.
If anyone knows how to exhaust a Papillon, please let me know......