“WHAT`S THAT, BOY? TIMMY`S FALLEN DOWN THE WELL?”...
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM…
Happy New Year
MAD AS A BOX OF FROGS
EMAIL ME .
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"
Friday, October 18, 2013
They have already been visiting. They were taken to a friend`s house to meet lots more Papillons The reactions were very interesting.
Plush Puppy decided that the best approach was to sit quietly under my chair and study the problem. When she was sure she had it down, she went out and mingled. She is a quiet but determined soul, strongly motivated by food. When we tried some lead training, she was so obsessed by the ham that was offered as an incentive, I don`t think she noticed the lead at all. Walk up and down on the lead? Bring on the hot coals! She intimated that she would
|Plush Puppy and Mr Wag|
Mr Wag has a simple philosophy about new and challenging situations. “When in doubt, wag. When in serious doubt, wag harder!” His little tail was just a blur as all these strange dogs converged on him. And it seemed to work too. He will never have trouble fitting in.
As yet, I don`t know what their future will be. I have Solitaire`s two coming on, and I will not be keeping four puppies.
Meanwhile the house motto seems to be “Puppies rule!”
Saturday, October 12, 2013
The door trauma is forgotten – even by Sonja, who possibly still thinks she narrowly escaped an unwilling trip to Narnia (The Lion, The Bitch and the Bad Door) or worse.
|Solitaire`s family - the girl is on the right|
Meanwhile, Solitaire has done it again. She efficiently produced two beautiful puppies, one of each – and did it in daylight, bless her. I hate those night time epics, when you wonder if you will be able to get help if you need it. But Solitaire started at 8am, and was finished by 12.30. She is very pleased with herself, and so she should be. They are pretty, fat and beautifully marked, and mum has plenty of milk, so I am hopeful.
Dad is Swedish, so this is quite an experiment.
This will be her last litter. This time she is really retired.
I hope she believes me this time!
Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Most of the dogs adapted. But we had problems. Florian, usually out to lunch on the planet Zog. Shelby, full of strange Chin flights of fancy. Sonja, rather dim. Those 3 were Door Refusers. They would not go through the Bad Door. Sonja in particular was appalled by it. She seemed to suspect it opened on to the planet Mars.
Of course I just carried them out in the end. Then came the fun of getting them in. Florian was carried in. Shelby refused totally – till it rained. (Rain solves a lot of Chin problems, I find…concentrates the Chin mind amazingly, does the threat of being wet.)
And that left Sonja. She would not even be caught to be taken through the Bad Door. I left the door open and all the lights on, and went in for a while, sure that she would eventually come in to the house.
|"Who knows where that door would take me?" - Red Sonja|
No Sonja. When I went out looking for her I found her curled up in a large flowerpot. That was her chosen bed for the night, sooner than face the terrors of the Bad Door. I was able to carry her in, and she was amazed to find that her own bed was in there after all.
But eventually the locksmith arrived, very punctually. “This big guy in a hat at the far end of the road wouldnae let me pass till I showed him the paperwork!” he complained.
I looked at him. Big and fat with a huge beer belly , inadequately contained by a faded T shirt, long greasy hair, a scruffy white van – he must have ticked all the wrong boxes on my Good Neighbour`s security list. I wisely said nothing.
But he fixed the lock and at last we could use the normal door again.
And Sonja looked very smug indeed about it.