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.

Sunday, July 17, 2016


The clearing of the back garden has displaced a lot of wildlife.  In my opinion this is no bad thing.   And the dogs seem to agree.

It is a major difference.   The first time I let the Granny Farm (the old ladies) out in the cleared expanse, they gazed around.   Then old Prudence, not thinking, trotted off to what used to be her very private spot in the bushes to relieve herself.   And it wasn`t there.   Nothing at all.   No discreet leafy cover for an old girl desperate to go.   She stared around in growing panic.  Everyone was going to see her!    The dogs, me, the jeering magpies, the planes overhead!   And she couldn`t hold in much longer.

Eventually nature took its course.   And of course no-one was looking.  The magpies jeer anyway.  And I very much doubt that the pilot of the London shuttle (I live on the glide path for Glasgow airport) looked down at that moment from his instruments and said to the co-pilot, “Look!   There`s Prudence having a pee!  Tell the passengers!”

(Incidentally, never name a potential brood bitch “Prudence”.  Poor Prudence was never able to become physically receptive when in season, and so never became pregnant.  Very prudent of her.  Try something like “Ever Ready” instead… )

Meanwhile, as I said, the wildlife is having to make other arrangements.  Some of them a bit hasty.   Which is probably why I came out to a big commotion the other day, and there stood Daisy, a retired Champion, with a small rabbit dangling from her jaws.  The look on her face clearly said “This is SO much better than showing!”

Daisy wins CC at SKC
Daisy (Ch VOLPECULA YOU`RE SO VAIN)  in her pre-rabbit days

But it became all too clear that the others were of a “share and share alike” disposition.   They were already planning which parts they would have.   And equally clear that Daisy, a forceful personality, was not for sharing.   It was her rabbit.   I sized up the growing tumult, stepped in, and removed the rabbit.   Universal dismay.  I`m not sure which they were looking forward to most, the eating of the rabbit, or the fight to get it from Daisy.  As it was, I became the villain of the piece.  Sulky sullen looks.  “She`s going to eat it all herself!” 

But memories are short and soon they were hunting for another one.

Run, rabbit, run!
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