Mind you, I'm not sure how this blog is going to fare - I juggle paid work with domestics, try to retain contact with friends and family - all the usual demands of modern life. But I used to write and the lack of this drives me nuts, in much the same way as I go slightly off the planet if I don't get my fingers in the earth regularly. So I figured this might just work. I hope so.
At the moment I'm in my study and can hear Fearghus breathing in the hallway. Fearghus is an Irish Wolfhound - all 73 kilos, happy tail and strong nails. Take particular note of the nails as they are responsible for some painful scratches on my toes, caused by him dashing over my feet to get to his food bowl. Quite apart from that, the sound of dogs breathing is one of the most comforting sounds in the world. They are content, the house is safe and I am not alone. Beloved is in the sitting room, sprawled on the sofa, with Winston Bull Terrier next to him on his mat. The wonderful Bonnie, Rottweiler-extraordinaire, is lying on the laundry floor. Lest this sound harsh, I will mention that the laundry floor is lovely and cool (vital for an aged dog on a 37 degree summer evening) and with her head in the doorway, she can indulge her busybody traits to the full, as she can see or hear everything in the house from this spot.
The Beautiful Bonnie
Fearghus, snurfle hound
No one is taking Teddy away from Winston