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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"
Friday, November 20, 2015
I have never had a dog quite like Sparkle. I have wrestled with huge coats, tangly ones, sparse ones, and been saddened by the creaminess of others.
Sparkle poses a different problem. To put it simply, he is a dirt magnet.
|"I am perfect just as I am" - Sparkle|
I think he goes out in the morning, takes a deep breath, and calls out: “Here I am, dirt! Come and get me!” And it flies to him in clouds, and settles everywhere. Add to this his ability to stain most parts of himself (including his tail - how the devil does he manage that?), and the usual filthy state of his teeth, and you have a problem that begs for an industrial solution.
His sister, Tess Trueheart, has none of these problems. She is clean, unstained with shining teeth. How can the two be so different?, I wonder, as I zip through a bath for her, and then prepare stain remover and three different whitening shampoos for his three baths to come. He is naturally quite offended by the different treatment he gets, and sees it as cruel and unnatural punishment. He likes the way he looks…and smells.
Well, he has always been an unusual dog, to say the least, and I put up with his passion for potato scones, his insistence on knee sitting at inappropriate moments and his endearing habit on peeing on my chair whenever I get up.
So I suppose I will just get the hot water and suds ready, and we will try again
I have loved your blog, and your writing, for over 10 years now, and am so glad you are still keeping up with it! Thank you!
Thank you for still liking my ramblings!