With their new toy.
Dogs - Winnie and Escher

Dogs are such clear thinkers. They have a supremely simple attitude to life, and it works. I'm worrying about my dodgy knees, and jury service (I don't want to do it), and the weeds in my garden (so many). I get the dogs up. Woo-hoo! We're up! Let's doooooooo something! Woo-hoo! We ARE doing something! We're walking around the driveway. This happens every morning but we are always as fresh as a clump of daisies. Shastas, maybe?

As soon as breakfast for dogs is finished, we bark at our mother. She is wasting time in the bathroom, and we rather prefer her smelling like us. And we want to go to the dog park, and do some barking and howling in the car on the way there. Now, where are our friends? Gismo, Dexter, Minnie, Zoe, Bear...

 Mine! Mine!
Whose Tennis Ball?

And where are our balls? Oops. That doesn't quite sound right. Tennis balls, I mean...

Friday 11th March

This morning after the dog park I did some gardening, with big brown Escher tied up on his long tether. I found tenacious, luxurious clover carpets growing by the water race - and very quickly filled the wheelbarrow. I also found a dead rhododendron (what a wimp). But, alas, the wind (gale force dry nor-wester) soon roared in and things just became too noisy and horrible. So I came inside for a spot of TV watching, with Hissy for company.

 A black and dull-grey tabby.
Histeria the Tabby

+10Histeria is my ten year-old tabby, and is looking thinner and scruffier by the day. She's the last survivor of my triplet wild foster kittens, and I suspect their genetics don't include a long life. Hissy loves to sit on my lap, so this (plus the wind) provides a perfect excuse for daytime TV, hee hee. I feed her nutritious high calorie snacks when no-one else is watching.


There's a largish vegetation fire burning quite near here, and I feel a little uneasy, smelling and seeing smoke outside. So what are my plans for evacuation, in an emergency? Pile into the car with six cat cages, three loose dogs, camera, computer and wallet. What else? Have to leave the piano. Hypothetical, luckily, because I'd never get Histeria into a cage.

 One of the best new David Austins in my garden.
Windemere Rose

Aha! The weather! It's suddenly half as hot as yesterday. How odd is that? I've been gardening in the back of the Stumpy (AKA Willow Tree) Garden. I've removed the clover weeds with a shovel, and now I need some soil to sure up the little stone wall. I also need to find my bucket of tools, in which I have a new pair of squishy green and yellow patterned gloves. My hands are getting sore.

A Bit Later...

Found! I've returned to trim the Oak trees. Two of them are supposed to be 'fastigate', but nobody told their middle branches that. Difficult to keep them tidy, and using a long handled saw gets me over-heating. Fluff-Fluff, dear cat, has been keeping me company, and doesn't seem to mind large chunks of wood crashing down near him.

Saturday 12th March

This morning we've been to party called 'Bark in the Park', a dog food promotion. The dog park was full of caravans, tents with tables, deck chairs, and assorted dog play equipment - hoops, tunnels, hurdles, and so on. And did my dogs enjoy themselves? Let's ask the collies, Winnie and Rusty. Are you two enjoying the party? 'Throw the ball. Throw the ball. Please throw the ball. Pleeeeeease throw the ball.'

 Mister Brown About the Town.
Escher on Willow Bridge

And how about Escher, brown dog on a diet? First he pee-ed on absolutely everything (including a salesperson lying down taking photographs, oops). Then he found the free dog-treats caravan, jumped inside, and had to be politely evicted. He then installed himself outside by the counter as various dog owners arrived for their give-aways. Look, I'm a sitting dog, a good dog, a soooooo good dog. I deserve a treat!

 Dexter is a medium sized dog.
Dexter - Mister Sociable

The Rest of the Pack...

And what about the rest of our regular morning dog pack? Minnie didn't like the lolloping Labradors and hid. Stellita, forced to wear a pink ballerina dress, sat on the grass and sulked. Gismo re-injured his leg and had to be carried. Fergus the English sheepdog wandered around looking rather vacant.

Only Dexter understood how to mingle - he leapt from encounter to encounter, with the hugest dog-smile on his wiry ginger face. Dexter is a spoodle with a large touch of terrier. Yeay for Dexter!

One final thought. My house smells badly of dog. But my dogs don't care. They probably think they smell of house...