Recuperation is never what you imagine.

My assistant has spent the week recuperating.

This has involved mostly sleeping with the occasional bout of table climbing and peg killing.

There was also an incident with a determined drum player.

What is it? Make it stop.

Make it stop or I will.

It has to STOP!

Last night however things got a bit tense, she was very reluctant to wake up for dinner and refused all food. While her stitches were safely in place her tummy was swollen and lumpy and very, very hot. After very little sleep I ended up taking her to the vet this morning at 0630.

Despite the fact that we got him out of bed at ungodly'o'clock Lovely Vet David (LVD) was very nice and chatted happily despite Iz growling as soon as she saw him (guarding the building from the outside-crazy puppy!). Of course she now has reason to growl, he took her temperature ;-) But HOORAY it was normal, there was no infection and so no real reason to worry.

With mahoosive apologies to LVD we drove back home happy that the anti-emetic would prevent another 'bomit' on the bedclothes. This pleased me greatly as having stripped, washed and dried my bedlinen after being woken at 0700 Saturday by the 'bomity' puppy I didn't actually get to sleep in it last night, what staying downstairs to check my assistant's faculties every two hours.

But she is well so I shall enjoy getting into bed in just a few minutes :-)

I can get it! I can get it! Oh no, I can't.

The thing I am finding out about small breed puppies is they are

a) much closer to the ground
b) do not grow so big as collie pups
c) tire much more quickly


My assistant took time out of her individuation of my quilt back the other day to indulge in a little R&R. It seemed to smell okay.

Ha!Ha! Then it moved!!

But sometimes quick just isn't quick enough!!

It took several minutes but we unstuck her tongue in the end ;-)

OooAaar! We'em be coontry volk urp 'ere on ze hill you'm know?*

Princess C-W and I had a girls' day out today, leaving the boys behind to do some sort of cowboy stuff down in the lower 40. At a loose end for the day my assistant helped out apparently.

We hopped in the car and headed cross country off to the reeeeeeeaaaaaaalllly BIG SMOKE. Pr. C-W wasn't entirely certain that she had ever visited anywhere quite so big before. Poor neglected child, kept up here on the hill away from the outside world.

We went with the intention of buying her some long sleeve t-shirts as Summer is nearly upon us and all the ones that fit last Winter don't fit now. Those with no experience of the UK may not understand that simply because the calendar says it is Summertime does not mean the weather agrees. The coats, hats and scarves may go away but jumpers, jeans and warm tops stay to hand. Sadly no one has ever informed buyers about this seasonal discrepancy as all any shop stocks from February onwards is vest tops, thin t-shirts and weirdly skimpy shorts.

Our trip out was ubersuccessful today with purchases made of long sleeve t-shirts, fabric, CK's Father's Day gift, books (yay BeastQuest!), fabric, plastic containers from Ikea, more books, chocolate (Hotel Chocolat), more fabric (oh John Lewis how I love you!) and some exceedingly cute 'Very Hungry Caterpillar' badges. Pr. C-W and I wore ours all day (butterfly and sun respectively) and the boys got to choose when we got home (lollipop and cake I think).

We saw two enormous cruise ships and traffic. Walked miles through shops and up and down stairs. Held hands and laughed. And decided cities smell different to the countryside. Most telling of all was Princess C-W's observation that West Quay made her think of an airport. Hundreds of people milling around weighed down by bags of stuff they are certain will be essential to their existences. Fast food, queues, funny smells and people in a hurry. Intriguing to see the world through the eyes of a child.










* English - Dorset translation 'We are country folk up here on the hill did you know?' *

Have you met my assistant?

Fortunately the weather was so hideous on the weekend that our planned picnic with my god daughter and family was moved indoors. Fortunately? Yes I say 'Fortunately' for, because of despite the help of my daytime assistant, my picnic blanket was only half finished.

You can see here she is measuring out the backing fabric.

Pondering the best angles to make the most of the fabric.

.
Sometimes stepping back gives a different perspective.

Finally adding one's indiviual touch to make the project stand out just that little bit more!

Anyone want to buy a small black puppy?????

I think I see a pattern developing.

I came back after a rushed school run the other morning to find this.

Much of the clean washing that I had left sitting on the 'inferior couch' had been re-arranged into a more comfortable sleeping facility


Several hours later I went into the kitchen to get lunch.............

Now if only I could get her to use an iron.

Any time before 0600 is too early!

I have been up now for nearly an hour and there is no one to blame but myself. For it was I who several years ago suggested to CK that 10 was old enough to be responsible for your own dog.

It was I who gave up half my birthday day out to take said 10 y.o. to visit a litter of puppies.

And it is I who is cursed blessed with mother hearing and wakes at the little yips and squeaking noises that accompany an urgent need to be outside at 5a.m.

Of course it is also I who is particularly glad that the housetraining lesson thing seems to be clicking in to place.


Sadly now though I shall never know the conclusion to the dream I was having. After listening to Mr. Locket try to explain the maths behind making the dolls' clothes over the phone I passed him across to CK so that they could quote geometry, trigonometry and general scientific principles at one another. Perhaps I should thank that puppy!?!?!?

puppies, flamingos, cats and a finish!

Rumour has been circulating in this house for some weeks now that Isabell is less puppy and more cat in her orientation and tonight she proves it so once again.

Just like all those blog cats I see joining in on the crafting act here we have Iz all curled up against the pedal of my sewing machine.

Why is the sewing machine out you ask? Why Jemima, what a good question!

A few weekends ago I had a little play in my nearest BIG town and found this rather lufferly furnishings cotton. Obviously I couldn't leave it there and just tonight it turned into a fully fledged shopping bag.

With a lining and everything! I buggered up the sandwiching of the fabric somehow and so rather than being able to turn the whole thing through a small gap, I had to overstitch the seam around the top to stop it falling apart but so long as no one looks too closely I will be happy.

Look! I even gave it a flamingo pocket!

destructoBoy is quite concerned I have made it too big and the handles too short but these were both deliberate design features. Honest. The size is to allow for the holding of the three different types of dog food tins that I now have to buy (plus other shopping naturally, we exist on more than canine cusine up here on t'hill you know) and the short handles are down to the fact that there was insuffcient material for long ones. But these look really good, honest (again!).

one week in

Realise now why I have always preferred gun/working dogs!

Recognise Izzy is a major drama queen (when a collar first put on threw a mahoosive temper tantrum. Boys and I ignored it and played o/s chasing a ball. I walked past door to see puppy quietly sitting on doormat watching us. When she spotted me the screeching and roaring began again!)

Wish my boys were less gentlemanly.

Glad to see blackdog being more agressive as week went on.

Loving the philosophy of Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer.

Have identified her 'breed' - rather than being a Westie/Scottie cross which in modern parlance would make her something like a 'Wotsie' or a 'Skettie' a parent at school yesterday figured out she must be a 'Highland Terrier'. How cool is that? (for those who don't know dog breeds so much there is no such thing as a Highland Terrier ;-)

Done with being woken at three A.M. by Princess C-W clutching a puppy and saying 'she is awake now'.

Pleased 'poor puppy lady' paper-trained Iz.

Glad rather-gorgeous-vet thinks Izzy is as pretty as we do.

Laughing at the already powerful personality attached to such a small creature.

OH! MY! STARS! (again)

Princess Curly Wurly was still awake last night when I went to bed at 1000 hours. She told me 'she wouldn't be able to sleep'.

She was up, crawling into my bed at 0600 because she was 'too excited to stay asleep'.


At a reasonable hour (I made her hang out until 0900) we went over to the puppy woman's house and after politely chatting for a bit Princess C-W's enthusiasm and bouncing was too much so we scooped up young Miss Isabell and headed home.



We had a specially kitted out cane basket to put her in for the 40 minute trip home. It seems there was far too much fun (and chicken bits) to be had on 'someone's' lap ;-)

My poor old men are currently running scared. I don't know why - butter wouldn't melt, would it?

Not that she is a prodigy or anything but she had only been in the house half an hour when she figured out how to negotiate 'the stairs'. (These stairs will eventually be her access up to Pr.C-W's bed, it is v. high.)

And after all that exercise it was time for a well-deserved sleep.

Yep, I think she is going to fit in just fine.

Ever had a moment when reality bites?

CK and I have been sharing a few philosophical discussions recently. You know, him sitting on his couch staring intently at every channel for five seconds as he channel-surfs through all 40+ stations, me on mine knitting, frogging, stitching, ripping out, cursing.... normal family evening. And one of us will casually throw a topic for comment out into the air.


Usually it kind of floats for a bit then sinks under the apathy which coats the room but just recently.... just recently it has been saved from crash landing at the last minute because it strikes a chord with both of us. Our lives are about to change.


I mean really change.




I phoned the nice puppy woman last Friday to see if we may go and visit Isabell this half term week. Having waited for this pup since the end of November Pr. C-W was just about fit to burst given that collection day was less than two weeks away and we figured a visit may just lessen the tension somewhat.

She sounded almost taken aback to hear from us and hemmed and hawed for a few seconds while issuing hissed commands to someone (something) off to one side. It seems we were very welcome to come and visit but by chance one of the other new owners was taking their pup home the coming Friday and while she didn't want to force an issue we were also very welcome to come and collect Isabell a week early. More muttering, hissing and whispering.

The longer this conversation went on the more clear it became that poor old nice puppy woman was in a slight state of shock as the reality of having nine dogs in her house was becoming clear. Was it mean to giggle?

So tonight is our last night sans puppy and both CK and I are revelling in the whole 'dogs who do what they are told thing'. I suppose it will return again one day.