Merry Christmas

Holly in her holly-collar, thanks to Helen on Greyhound Gap's forum.

And Herbie, who rarely wears a collar these days on account of his poor lymph glands.

A very happy holidays to everyone!

On the move

The stress levels are cranking up - I'm moving house on the 7th January, and the new house is still a mess, and I have no cooker, and and and... So I may not be blogging much for a while, even though I want to get a picture of Holly in her Christmas collar on here. So while you're stretched out in front of the TV, think of me, stripping wallpaper and trying to get years of grease off kitchen tiles...

I keep telling myself I could just move in and live out of cardboard boxes for months, but I'd still have to decorate, this time with dogs. Decorating With Dogs -someone should write a book. It's hard to keep greyhounds and paint apart, so I have to get as much done as I can.

If I don't get as far as a Christmas message, Merry Christmas!

Next!

Last week was difficult. I'd like an easy one this time, please. This morning was the last straw, my sister blowing a gasket - it's been rattling for a while, and I know she's anxious about her chances of staying employed, but.... nnngghhh (sound of teeth being gritted). I am just staggering through till Christmas, and I'd like to get there in one piece. If that's not too much to ask for.

On the plus side, the big scarey parking attendant in our local market town came over to greet the dogs, and ruffle their ears. He lost his own Great Dane a couple of weeks back, dilated cardiomyopathy - one week his dog developed a cough, and by the end of the week, despite drugs, her heart gave out. He can't face having another just yet, but likes to borrow other dogs for 10 seconds. I didn't give him the "You need a greyhound" speech, the grief was obviously still raw in his voice, but... he needs another dog.

Cabin Fever

There's so much ice around, that trips to the outside world have been few. I had a snow day on Thursday, since all the local schools were closed and Radio York gave their "Is your journey really necessary?" pitch. Work? Nah.

The dogs are not happy, though, and have both skidded onto their not-so-well-padded behinds. (I've gone over on mine a few times, but I've got the cushioning to survive!) The sharper pieces of ice hurt their feet, and at one point we found a load of blood on the ice - I think someone else's dog may have cut a pad. Either that, or there's been a murder at the roadside, and when the snow melts, there'll be a body under a pile of snow. Or maybe the snowman in the garden on the corner wasn't made by kids, but by the murderer concealing the evidence... I've been trapped indoors too long with only a pile of old Agatha Christies for company.

A friend once said she couldn't live in the country in case she turned into Miss Marple, and I though, Too late, I've already turned. But even if the neighbours have all murdered each other, I'm not going out to investigate until some of this ice has melted.

Snow Again