I Love Mungo Park

No, not the real Scottish explorer who bimbled up the Niger river; the little fox cub in Springwatch's "Fox in the City" footage. Part of the "Chip Shop Family", tonight he was being shown some road safety by mum-fox, and the foxy shapes nipping about on the wide-screen were enough to have me glued to the screen

Apparently we have "company". Mum found a "little friend" on herself yesterday, and Haggis, who is the family's "bell-wether" for the parasitic beasties (he seems to get bitten first, and then starts licking the short fur at the base of his tail, which turns pink with the iron stain in his saliva), giving the game away.

So tonight it was "Frontline" time for all 5 of we animals, and machine-wash time for all the dog bedding. Dad swears by this stuff, which he can only get from the vet in quite an expensive trigger pack, as being the only stuff worthwhile. All fleas dead and gone in a couple of days, and none come back for a month or two, depending on how many "total immersion" baptisms we dogs get to wash it off. A good spray will last the water-avoiding cats all summer.

Ah well, Go Mungo

Deefs

Too busy for one dog

"You're to busy for one dog!" - a fantastic turn of phrase picked up from our Deep South westie friends, describing their very active young pup, Theo. Theo is a tad more sedate now (They used to call her "Theo-Whoosh") but the too busy thing definitely fits me, according to Mum and Dad. We get fed in one room, shut out from the kitchen where the cats get fed, lest we harrass the cats away from their bowls and pirate the lot (as if!). But once the cats have finished we are let through to lick up aby tiny gleanings. Unfortunately there are 2 bowls, several feet apart, and I only have one mouth, so Dad gets a regular laugh as I am torn trying to lick both before either Meg or the H can get any. Too busy for one dog indeed

Meanwhile, today was Frontline day. We had .. um "company"... but we were trying to keep them secret, but Haggis grassed us up by scratching and licking around his tail. The humans always seem to know, perhaps by the rusty coloured saliva stains where he's been licking. So the game was up, and Dad came at us with a liquid trigger pack. We don't really mind - after all, what's a thin parrafinny stink, when you're a connoisseur of fox poo and dead seabirds? The cats got it too, much to their disgust. they sulked in the garden and wouldn't come in for supper

Deefer