Molly and Rusty

One of the problems with sitting around at home all day is that people tend to think you’ve nothing better to do than look after their children and dogs. I believe I introduced you to Molly yesterday. She’s allegedly a cross between a Rhodesian Ridgeback and a Staffordshire Bull-Terrier which sounds to me like a fairly unpleasant combination but I’m pleased to tell you that she’s a perfectly even tempered dog.

Having said that another dog has just been left in my care. This is Rusty and he’s a Kelpie. I’ve no idea what that means either but they are apparently very good farm dogs. I’ve been informed by one who should know (a farmer) that they do something clever which involves running across the back of cattle. It doesn’t sound terribly clever now I must admit but I’ll do some more research and get back to you with the missing details which will no doubt reveal Kelpies to be among the intellectual giants of the canine kingdom.

Anyway, Rusty didn’t seem to want to sit patiently at my feet so I’ve thrown him into Molly’s pen next door where he is usually savaged for a couple of hours until the radio no longer drowns out the noise of his crying and I reluctantly retrieve him from Molly’s slavering jaws. I was told last week about another dog in a similar situation who plucked out the eye of his playtime companion. That would be embarrassing. For all concerned I imagine.

That’s pretty much the sum of my life at present. Other people’s dogs, other people’s children and the weather. In fact I can’t believe that I’m writing my third entry and I’ve yet to mention the weath…oh no, I went on about it in the last one didn’t I, storms, wind, waves and that sort of thing. Well, I’ve not mentioned any children yet have I? There’s one coming around tonight before she goes to dance classes. We live next door to the school and her parents live about half an hour away so she comes around here for an hour or so before she heads off to her hip-hop classes. Her name is Laura.

Not that I’m complaining, I like children and dogs (and weather?), it’s just that I feel I spend too much of my life talking about them. Having said that the radio is turned up as high as it goes and I can still hear the crying from next door so I’d better carry out my heroic pet rescue.