The World and his Wife

It's "Finzi", as in Gerald Finzi - the black greyhound cross (lurcher?) we meet regularly and who belongs to Dad's allotment chum and musician. All you need to know is on....

http://www.geraldfinzi.org/

The World and his wife are out at the Rec this evening - not only Finzi, but we also have an enthusiastic greeting with Judy, the smooth coated Patterdale we met yesterday, a (new) little white Westie called Lottie (4), and almost inevitably Bugsy and Billy. Several more besides, too.

I am wondering if I'll get any Valentine cards. A girl can always hope (although Dad says that the way I'm feisty with all the boys, he'd be amazed if I do....). I hope, too, none of you lads have forgotten your ladies, canine or human. Dad, we know, is safe. He will probably survive through to at least tomorrow night, alive.

We are sad to hear that the Silverwood's old cat Socky has had to be put down. He generally steered clear when ever we visited, although we have met him (and knew to treat him with respect!). Our sympathies go to the Silverwoods. (How are the assorted dogs? How's Chance? How Sam? Dancer?) Do let us know.....

Dad has been to "Pets at Home" (Pets R Us) for dog food, so a chance to buy yet another yellow, hollow centred frisbee (My 4th) and is amazed and delighted that it survives tonight's first Rec throwing session without me chewing any "pinking shears" cuts into it.....

And so, it's the weekend. Have a good one, and I'll talk to you again soon.

Deefski (Young, free and single....)

The Circle is Broken

Noooo... nothing witchy. My yellow frisbee. Tonight we were giving it some serious stick in between racing around on the Rec with sis Ellie, and old-girl Misha (yay! 5 westies!), when Dad gave the frisbee one huge throw and it "burst" on impact with the ground. I'm told this is where I had almost chewed through it, but I can't help it. It's a lovely chewy feel, which yields just right to a girl's carnacials.

Give it some yang-tang-yang-yang between the back teeth and you produce a lovely scallop-edged cut across it, as if done with pinking shears (Dad used to call them "Crocodile scissors" when he was a boy). The poor ring was quite frayed looking by the end and always looked like a new one might be a good idea. Well tonight it's in the bin and a girl is wondering whether it's too late to shove a request up the chimbley for Santa Clause

Mmmmm... thinks.... making a list and checking it twice..... does shouting at Alsatians count against me? Eating that Chanel make-up compact? Chewing Mum's personal stuff.... almost taking Mum and Dad's fingers off when proffered a sweetie.......? What is a girl to do to redress the balance?

Talking of "old ladies", we are pleased that Dad's Aunt (Pud Lady's sister) is through a heart valve replacement op and is currently being disconnected from all the external plumbing, and that Steak-Lady , in the same week, is through her hip replacement operation. Go you ladies. The former is a definite Dalmatian fan, having owned a succession of enooooormous boys, the latter is currently owner to (Yorkies) Cracker and Rosie, but has had boxers and a collie cross in the past. Both, though, have time for westies. Perhaps they'll put in a good word for me with Santa.

Deefski

Circus Clown

As far as we know there is not a circus in town.... So , why then, did we see, walking from the railway station to the station carpark, a circus clown in full regalia - red/orange/yellow diamond-pattern baggy romper suit, big white ruff collar, long clown-shoes with bulbous toe-ends, white make-up with big smiley red lips. White hair, so we guess an elderly lady-clown but even so fairly bizarre out of context.

Maybe she was heading for her clown car and was going to drive it out of the carpark with bits falling off and the exhaust banging away with backfires. Dad pleads that he had not, up till then, been drinking. Even so, the ladies in "Alldays" looked at him a bit odd as he bought wine and told them all about it.

For me though, a great run around in the Rec chsaing the yellow frisbee, and a brief meeting with a shaggy, longtailed, standard poodle in chocolate brown. No-one else we recognised. The Rec, normally full of chums, was very quiet. Such a warm evening too. Mum and Dad are actually eating supper al fresco, first time this year

Deefs

How do you manage three?

All warm again, but fairly wet. Dad home fairly late, but armed with a surprise - a yellow tough-plastic frisbee, like the one I tried to half-inch off Bindy. But this one's mine! It's excellent - Dad throws it edge-ways so it rolls and rolls, gradually curving in more and more as it slows down and leans over. And again... and again... and again

All three of us thoroughly approve of this. I get to run myself ragged, and come home panting like a marathon runner, while Haggis gets a night off from being persecuted by me chasing him about and launching "Kato" attacks on him ("Not NOW, Kato!"). Megan gets to mooch about in a casual manner, as befits a Dowager Duchess of advancing years

On the Rec we meet a young father returning from the kiddie's play furniture with 2 tots (maybe 18 months and 3?) and a very smartly groomed 5 year old bitch westie called Magic (which seems to get shortened to "Madge" which I'm sure can't be right!). The father asks our Dad "How do you manage three?" as Magic runs in circles chased by me and derailed occasionally by Haggis. Unseen, the oldest tot lep's out of the push chair and takes off across the grass. "A bit easier than you manage three where only one is a dog", says Dad. The father sees where our Dad's pointing and laughs.. "Oy! How did you get out of there?". Child is safely retrieved and strapped more successfully into push chair

Deefer