“WHAT`S THAT, BOY? TIMMY`S FALLEN DOWN THE WELL?”...
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM…
Happy New Year
MAD AS A BOX OF FROGS
OFF WE GO!
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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"
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
|Kaiju poses at the show - very full of it.|
Later I was talking to a friend who has Chin. She was describing problems in getting her male Chin to come in – he dances about at the door, will not be caught, then comes back and stands at the door looking in, and will repeat the peformance ad nauseam. He may stay out all night…
Suddenly I realised she was describing Shelby. When I call the dogs in, they all come in a rush, and usually Shelby is with them. But quite often he just refuses to come. He stares at me, dances about, backs off when I try to pick him up, then comes back to hang about at the door, gazing in. Sometimes I wait till rain makes him rethink his position radically. (Everyone knows that Chin melt in the rain.) Sometimes I try to get him in with a titbit. It has to be placed in the little run, then I back off while he goes and sniffs at it, then, if he decides it is satisfactory, he will turn round 3 times and then I am allowed to pick him up. He has been known to stay out all night. I have been known to get very angry and frustrated, especially after midnight. I had concluded I had a mentally disturbed dog – the only one in the world.
And now I was hearing that he was not alone. I told her all the details. “Yes, that`s right. It`s a male Chin thing. Lots of them do it. They`re all as
mad as a box of frogs!”
|Shelby - mad as a box of frogs|
I was astonished. And I must say, although there was some relief in realising that I did not own the only mad Chin in the world, it didn`t really solve the problem.
Ella the girl Chin would not dream of doing anything so stupid. Ella is very practical. The house is full of food. The great outdoors is not. Coming in is a no-brainer. There is always the hope of cake and ice-cream, the two prime motivators of Ella`s existence.
Meanwhile I just let Shelby out. But I had a look at the rain radar first.
By lunchtime there should be no problem at all…
Tuesday, August 02, 2016
Every morning Angel and Tess Trueheart accompany me out to check on things and get started for the day.
So the other day out we went – and a young buzzard landed right in front of us. The girls were transfixed – but only for a moment. Then a look was exchanged, and that look clearly said “Breakfast!” And they launched themselves screaming on the unhappy raptor. It got off quickly, and very awkwardly.
Not too happy about this. Clearly the young bird was not aware that a small Pap, like Angel, could have been breakfast for it. I don`t usually have any trouble with buzzards, apart from the odd time when they have discarded food in midair. I remember the summer when, sitting out with the dogs, it began to rain dead rats. Well, actually two and a half, the other half being eaten. The dogs were overjoyed. “It`s raining rats” is the song they happily screamed at the top of their voices as they converged on the gift from heaven. Not to worry – I got there first.
But they are small enough to be considered prey – not in a group, but I might worry about one on its own. And my lot are enthused by their previous successes with rabbits and the pigeon. And as Papillons they know they are invincible, and ten feet tall.
Meanwhile the young buzzard is hanging around. I think it is at the stage when its loving parents are feeling quite a bit less affectionate, and giving it subtle hints like “Away and work!”
I will keep an eye on it.