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.

Friday, August 31, 2012


Gracie, Cupcake and Belle.
(Gracie is very indignant, up on her hind legs)

"They all said I was going to grow up to be a Phalene. I thought I was going to grow up to be a dog....?"



Last week the terrible trio actually went to a show.

Not to compete. They are far too young. But puppies are allowed to go and watch.

Of course they attracted attention and a huge fuss was made of them, and they were greatly admired. (That is, after I had cleaned up the poor soggy things after the usual travel disaster.) They watched the whole thing from a large pen, and their eyes were everywhere.

And then we had a Puppy Parade. So out they came. Cupcake proved to be quite a showman, and posed and looked dim and sweet and cute. Gracie was furious to see him receiving titbits and attention, and trembled with rage throughout. Belle said she didn`t choose to walk indoors, even for large amounts of ham. (Belle does far too much thinking).

Nevertheless, they made an impression and there were several offers to buy them - especially Cupcake. As he trotted amiably round with his large ears flapping, the word went round that he was a Phalene, and would always have drop ears. ( Phalenes are very much sought after.) I remain very sceptical about this. He has had an ear up. He has still the huge experience of getting adult teeth to come. At that age his mother was always flying on one wing or the other.

I packed up my excited brood and took them home. I did not trouble Cupcake with ear speculation. I think he has enough to think about getting through daily life. I have always felt that knowing which end to eat with and which to do the other is probably the limit of his intellectual ability.

Oh yes, and my troubles with refuse collection?

Well, I gave it some thought. I realised that in the Council I would always be dealing with numpties. I had cut back what I could reach, which wasn`t all of it.

So I called them and said the job had been done, and there was now no access problem. I may just possibly have implied that a large gang of men had been on that job, not just me......

And although not much has changed, the bin is being collected every Wednesday again.

People see what they expect to see, after all.....ears or trees.

Friday, August 17, 2012

"Of course the other two are entirely to blame!"

"You couldn`t possibly be suggesting I`m carsick?"

"Not fair! I can`t see why they`re all blaming me!"



Solitaire`s terrible three have run into a problem. Not that they see it as one. But they are seriously travel sick, and even on short journeys I open the travel box to find three soaked and dribbling apparitions, (and sometimes more mess than that).

When they went to the vet to be immunised, they arrived so wet and traumatised from the journey, that they never even noticed the needle going in, and just sat and shivered with glazed eyes on the table. (The vet thought it was hilarious that I arrived prepared with towels and sponges and paper....)

It is not an improving situation.

Of course the worst offender is Cupcake, and in the course of a journey he can spread it around quite a bit. Even Belle, who is least affected, usually manages to sit in it.

I remember a friend having similar problems with a young Afghan. After the first roundabout she used to let fly at both ends. The amounts a distressed carsick Papillon can produce are as nothing compared to a large queasy sighthound, and the car more or less needed to be hosed out.....

Any advice will be gratefully received. (Except for the ginger biscuit cure....I have vivid past memories of trying that, and of those things seeing the light of day again after a very few miles......considerably the worse for wear.)

Sunday, August 12, 2012

When I get this lot done.....
....there are these ones


I am fighting a battle with the Council, this time over refuse collection. They just don`t like to come all the way down here.

I had a complaint that tree branches had caught a wing mirror. So I trailed out and cut all the branches that could catch, and my Good Neighbour cut some more.

Next time the complaint was that overhangs just might touch the little orange light on top of the vehicle. So I have been out with a fruit picker and loppers, pulling down overhead branches and cutting them as best I can. (I am no longer very good up ladders). Allegra and I head out early in the morning, and I struggle with the trees, while she keeps watch. Any hapless early dog walkers are soon told that she is in charge and is defending me. She feels very important.
Meanwhile, of course, I have no refuse collection, and am burning large amounts of household rubbish. (Which is illegal and smells awful.)

T omorrow I will tackle the Council again, playing the Little Old Lady with Asthma recovering from a Serious Illness card, and threatening a lot of bad publicity.....

The joys of country life.

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