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.

Thursday, April 04, 2013


Small dogs are always the problem.

The bigger dog is usually calm and laid-back and confident.   The little fellow has something to prove.

I have two such problems at the moment.

One is Marcus.   Marcus seems to be having a mid-life crisis - common to males, I believe, but instead of dressing half his age or buying a red sports car (which I could easily cope with, apart from wondering where he got the cash), Marcus is set on World Domination.   All other males must submit to him.

Now in the past I have had males who would have reduced Marcus and his ambition to a small greasy stain.   But things are different now.  My males are
Marcus the Merciless, ruler of the world

Fidget  - a big soft pudding
Merlin - a wimp "OMG, they are all senior dogs!"
Florian the Climbing Dog - mind on higher things
Shelby - Chin, and so by definition pacifist

Marcus roars at all of them, threatens them with death, and enthusiastically bumbites them when their backs are turned.  He gives the impression of a small furious but ineffectual wasp buzzing round a herd of mammoths.  The others hate it, but have no idea what to do about it beyond barking and looking hopefully at me.  Sometimes Shelby swats at him, and he flies across the room.

I keep a very close eye on things.

Truly is a different problem, although the size is about the same.  She is a warrior, and much hated by the other girls, many of whom she has bitten in the past.  Her body language seems to inspire attack.
Truly, my little red viking

Yesterday Daisy decided to take things in hand.    Backed up by an eager gang of bitches she advanced on Truly and began to tell her in no uncertain terms what she was and what was now going to be done to her.

The little red viking didn`t wait for the end.   She reached up and bit Daisy, right in the middle of her tirade, and then headed for the door at a respectable fraction of lightspeed.   She came in triumphant, just avoiding the screaming pursuit, and curled up in her favourite seat.  

"Someday one of them will get you", I said, having made sure she was safe.

Truly, who has seen off a fox in the past, gave me a look of nordic contempt.

"So much the worse for her!"

LOL! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I needed to laugh.
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