Puppy pics

Well ok,  true confessions time;  I’m supposed to be packing to go on hols but I’m distracted by looking at puppy pics I’m supposed to be emailing to friends and investigating waterproof camera housings.

The housings are quite pricey – £200 for an underwater housing for the Panasonic Lumix, which I think is frankly a bit steep.  A Kodak sport waterproof  will be fine for my needs, I think as long as the Turkish Aegean is as clear as they claim it is.  A positive snip at under a tenner.

I absolutely refuse to stress about a little hol.  I fully expect to be distracted by the Tour de France this afternoon and  I  predict that, as usual, I will be stuffing an extra book into the suitcase at about 9.30pm tonight and saying “Oh no. I haven’t weighed it yet. I should imagine it will be ok”  and DT man huffing and reminding me that every single time I have checked in luggage it’s needed a label with “HEAVY” in bold capitals.

He was rattled yesterday when he asked if I’d written a list and I said “No.”

“But you always write a list.”

I do, it’s true but I’m the only one who ticks things off so this time I thought, in the event of a very simple, very relaxing, very limited kind of hol, a list really wasn’t necessary.

This morning, with himself flying about the place complaining I’d moved his shaver charger cable (yeah, right)  I gave in and typed a list.  It’s only A4.  It’ll make him feel better. Especially if I write lots of ticks on it.

This time we’re flying with the kind of airline where they don’t serve you anything unless you pay for it.  We will probably have to pay per sheet for the loo paper.   Oral pun there.   Don’t get it?  Tough sheet.   😀

Right. Puppy pictures.  The only good thing about being dogless is that friends take pity on me and when they acquire gorgeous, soft,fragrant little lollopy puppies that fall asleep a a moment’s notice, they bring ’em round or let me go and visit.

And so it’s come to pass that one pal has a delicious eight week old working cocker dog pup and another has an eight week old Chesapeake Bay Retriever puppy bitch.

The working cocker is bright, alert, fearless, intelligent, adventurous and cute. He has a mind which needs occupying.  She’s thinking of doing agility with him, which would be hilarious, but  I hope she also trains him for gundog trials at the very least.

The Chezzie pup is slower, sweet, solid, cuddly and considers carefully before committing herself but already showing excellent retrieving/water instincts.

She liked the garden.  She liked the pond.  She tested a big waterlily leaf  by tentatively extending her front right paw and pressing it.  Uh-huh  – not very stable. She tested it with the other front paw.  Much the same, really.   She put both front paws down in the shallows.  Hmm.   Fine. Not too cold.

The next second, she was in, having the first swim of her life.  She made it across the width of the pond, puppy-paddling with aplomb through waterlilies, and duckweed,  sending flotillas of water-boatmen rowing like hell to get out of the way, and hauled herself out on the other side.

She doesn’t know about shaking.  Probably too young.  So she stood there for a minute, soaking wet and you could see her thinking “Hmm. This is a bit heavy.   She rolled around on the grass,  raced a mad couple of circuits around the lawn, sat down and fell fast asleep.

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Glub, glub, glub….fortunately the pond’s a lot smaller than Chesapeake Bay

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Drying off nicely.

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Socks clean on today.

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Neighbourhood watch.

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