I TALK TO THE TREES...
THE SILENCE OF THE PAPILLONS (No, not really - yo...
PAPILLON AND CHIPS
AND YET MORE SNOW
JOYS OF SPRING
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"
Sunday, October 12, 2008
"Ears? No problem! You just have to concentrate....And I`m not lending him mine!"
Calypso, sister of Boris
Literally hot. I`m having to run the 11 year old machine known as Old Chuggy, and it`s labouring under the strain. With the Qosmio dead, and the backup laptop only configured for getting online, I have a struggle ahead to redo all the paperwork for our seminar this weekend coming.
Seminars are the new black for the Kennel Club. In order to judge, you have to jump through hoops, more of them every year, and assessment at seminars is the foundation of this process. Does passing exams make you a better judge? I couldn`t possibly comment. Meanwhile, people are travelling the country, running up mileage desperatgely trying to pick up on whatever elements they lack.
The KC,of course, has other fish to fry at the moment. They are suffering from what can happen when what is esentially a private club financed by dog shows takes on a self-declared position as the arbiter of everything doggy. No, I`m not going there either. My breed has no health problems that are due to the Breed Standard, and we should be able to weather the storm.
No ,my immediate problem is a collection of eager people converging on a hall this weekend to listen to me speak on the Standard, and put an assortment of volunteered Papillons in the correct order.
I hope Chuggy, at present assuring me that it is midnight on the first of January 1995, holds up under the strain.....
I hope they all remember to bring a pencil.
Friday, October 10, 2008
And there was a huge bullock at the gate. Enormous, and looking really well-fed. He gazed plaintively at me with huge moist eyes. Would I give him a home? Did I care?
Emphatically not. I was in a hurry and he was blocking the way. I waved my arms and shouted threats involving sirloin steak, and walloped him on the nose with my umbrella. He gave me that hurt look Iam used to from Solitaire when she gets a row - the "You don`t love me any more" look, and turned to lumber away .
And that`s when it became very obvious that I had not been attacking a bullock with a pink umbrella.
I had been walloping a bull.
A really big bull. With horns.
I went on down the road, not without a few backward glances, and discovered my neighbour busy with a shovel. The bull had left a number of large deposits at her front door. She reckoned it was because he had become really excited after his encounter with the postman. The postman, of course, drives a bright red van......which now has a few horn-sized dents in it.
I left her to it and went on to collect the dud laptop.
Well, he`s still out there.
If Xena spots him, she`ll see him as a good alternative to rabbit.