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"
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.