Break in the Indian summer

It rained last night and this morning.

I nearly didn't remember what it was, this mysterious water falling from the sky, but I'm not so formerly Irish that I didn't figure it out eventually.

It has been a pretty good four weeks weather-wise.

And a good six weeks company-wise.

Haven't posted for a while, but then a hot happening August is something to be lived rather than written about.



Also, puppies take up a lot of time. So no blogging time. Or putting on make-up in the morning time. Or lying on the couch in the evening time. Or faffing around reading other blogs time. Or putting up photos time. Or all the dozens of little things I spent my evenings doing, like the one acre garden (now jungle) I have.

No me time in other words.

Christ, at this rate, I could've had a kid and gotten some presents at least ....

Yes I know having a kid is more time in the long term... it just feels like all the time right now.

Myself and my neighbour commiserate each other daily, as we are haulin' one puppy away from the other in either garden.



Having being begged and begged and begged and promised and promised etc for a puppy by men and kids, they're off doing manly things and we are the sole proprietor of the chewy, poopy little flght risks for the foreseeable.

It's like having a baby in the house she says.

And she should know, with two young boys.

Her puppy is a Bassett Hound called Simon who arrived on our street the day before Shannon.



Simon's ears are longer than his legs but he can still haul ass down the street faster than either of us.



As for Shannon, well, Shannon's a Husky, born to run. And like the airport she appears to be named after, she's always taking off. And I always know when she's about to do it, because I get 'the look'.

Some people reading this now will laugh that the girl with THE LOOK is now, finally gettin' some karma from her dogma.



The photo above encapsulates the look, as explained by a friend who also owns a husky. It says 'hmmm, I'm thinking about running away now, and I'm looking behind at you to make sure you know, because I don't care if you do, because we both know I can run faster than you. And even though I recognise my name when there's a treat bag in your hand, I would prefer to run than have a treat right now, so um.. ahm.. I forget my name (lalalalalaa, can't hear you ca-a-a-lllin' me...).... until you catch me of course .... get ready, sucker.'

Having said that, it's a lot of fun too.

And she won't break out of the house to go into town to meet boys with cider bottles and then fall on her face drunk and get brought home by the cops when she's sixteen.

She'll be old and incontinent and farty instead.