Blessed Are The Cheesemakers

First day at the cheese factory today and I hardly know where to start. There was so much fun to be had and too many tales to tell so I'll avoid them all and focus on the DRAMA of the weekend which involved me looking after our neighbours dog for a week while they holidayed in Melbourne.

They left on Saturday and Molly was run over on Sunday. I don't wish to shirk the responsibility inherent in dog-minding but I was not driving the car and was not officially in control of the dog at the time of the said knocking-over.

I had ventured to the shops in order to purchase materials with which to make breakfast: bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes (we already had a full complement of eggs at our disposal and had no need for any additional supplies).

I was approaching town on foot when Molly arrived without a lead or a care in the world. I removed my belt and tied her up outside the post office to prevent her from intuding on the supermarket and causing a bit of a to do.

However, upon leaving the shop I set her free, assuming that as I did not bring her town I was not responsible for her actions and as she had proved herself capable of reaching town without mishap then presemueably she was capable of returning in a similar fashion.

I was wrong.

She heard a dog bark.

Didn't see the car.

I saw it.

I shouted.

She heeded me not.

She was knocked down.

She's not dead.

It had to be a major news event to knock cheese off the agenda and indeed it was.

More cheese new tomorrow...beeep...beep...beep...