“WHAT`S THAT, BOY? TIMMY`S FALLEN DOWN THE WELL?”...
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM…
Happy New Year
MAD AS A BOX OF FROGS
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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"
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Last Wednesday, home from training, I was carrying the plump Sonja to her bed, when I tripped over something, and having to save Sonja first, I couldn`t save myself. I fell and hit my head on the door.
I lay there for a little, trying to work out if all of me was still functioning. Sonja, never the sharpest knife in the box, stood and looked at me. "Why are you down there? Do I still get my dinner?" (I suspect that if it had been Truly she would have checked my vital signs and called an ambulance.....very efficient, our smart Truly.)
But in the morning, somehow the problem had migrated. I looked in the mirror - and there was the mother of all black eyes.
I didn`t go out for 2 days. I should have gone to the Health Centre for a prescription, but I felt that if I went in there looking like that, they wouldn`t let me out again. And it kept on spreading. Definitely not going away.
Eventually I went to the shows I had entered, and people pointedly refrained from comment....I think I am too formidable for jokes about drink and fighting.
I still have the multicoloured eye. I suspect it glows in the dark.
I hope it goes in time for Crufts.
Wednesday, February 06, 2013
Last weekend we went to a show in a venue which had previously seen the exhibitors and dogs huddling round industrial heaters. This had been remembered, and exhibitors were piling in wrapped in duvet coats, scarves and heavy boots, looking like anxious penguins. I was no exception.
|Cupcake and Belle|
But it was warmer this time, and both Belle, who behaved in a most ladylike fashion, and Angel, who strutted and sneered at the opposition in a very unacceptable fashion, won their classes. Belle, having fluttered her long eyelashes and gazed earnestly with her deep black eyes at the judge, was rewarded by becoming Best Puppy in Breed.
I would like to be able to get it over to Angel that being, or at least pretending, to be a lady in the ring pays dividends, but I despair of that. She is a wicked little bitch, while Belle is a gentle Lady Dog, a variety of which I have had precious few over the years. Female Papillons are on the whole evil, and totally up for it.
Ella was in season, and as usual took to her bed ...."women`s troubles." She is totally anti-sex, and especially with Shelby, the other Chin. She screams and bites him - just as well, as he is far too big for her.
Poor Shelby is puzzled and frustrated. You can see him thinking "but she is the only girl here who is perfect at both ends!"
Sonja is quite recovered, and really missing those pills in pate. I am still slipping her sausage rolls, though. Little does she know that she is going back to the vet on Friday to have a small growth removed, mainly because she has decided that her new hobby will be licking at it incessantly. Party hat for a while, Sonja! And if you are lucky, more pills!