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 01, 2014


I called, last night about dusk, and all the dogs still out came running in – except for two.    Daisy and Marcus were missing.  This is not at all usual:  Daisy normally runs straight in to her bed, while Marcus rushes in to see if by chance there is a willing and receptive bitch for him.  (Well, that might have developed while he was out – even retired stud dogs never lose their optimism.)

"No comment!"

I went out to have a look

And there stood Daisy, crouched, and clearly stalking a large fox.   Marcus, no fool, was hanging considerably further back, and the look on his face clearly said “This is the big girl`s business, and I will just stay well back here, ready to offer wise advice and back her up until her nose bleeds.”

Daisy meant business.  I could see her thinking “What does the fox say?  It will say a lot when my teeth meet in its throat.  I wonder what fox tastes like?”

I called them in.   Marcus came in like a shot.  Daisy wouldn`t move until I stepped forward and the fox just melted away into the field.  Cue dirty look from Daisy, who had clearly planned to haul her trophy in to amaze the other bitches.  The fact that it was much bigger than her had not registered at all.  Papillons are quite convinced that they are the size of tigers, and just as fearsome to vermin.

Later, when  Tess Trueheart and her mother had to go out, I made sure to go with them.  One foxhunter in the family is quite enough.
I am glad that the fox did not think that Daisy was a tasty snack!
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