Pupdate, at last
When I saw Daisy a couple of days ago she said sadly, you haven’t come to see Mike in a long time. She didn’t mean to make me feel bad: she knows about the ME.* But *****. . . awful pang . . . ***** So I asked if I could come round today.
Oh gods puppies are so cute I am SO GLAD MINE ARE OVER WITH
! ! ! ! !
And I had just been giving my grown up hellhounds the old hairy eyeball this morning and reminding them that they are two and a half years old and not puppies any more. This is not immediately obvious, especially in Chaos’ case. And I tend to laugh, or honk, painfully when Daisy says things like, oh, you have them so beautifully trained. But . . . you forget about the awful truth of puppies. Mine are beautifully trained compared to Mike. Mike, I have to say, is a total frelling little nightmare** at the moment, and in some ways reminds me of one of the great native virtues of hellhounds, which is that the whole dominance thing doesn’t interest them much. You want to be hellgoddess? Okay. Sure. Whatever. Mike would quite like to be king of all he surveys, and anything else out there that he hasn’t surveyed yet but is planning to, and Daisy secretly wants to let him. Fortunately Roy is made of sterner stuff.
But I haven’t seen Mike in a month. And, of course, at this age, they metamorphose weekly if not daily. I never got round to posting last month’s pupdate, so here you are: 
And now here he is today:
Look at this one compared to the first one a month ago: he’s lost his puppy fur. And I’m telling you his new coat is glorious.
And in these two you can for the first time really see what he’s going to look like as a grown up. Gorgeous, among other things.
But he’s still only four months old. Awwwwwwwwww.
In theory one of the reasons I do photo posts is because they take less time. In practise, they do nothing of the kind: I’m too busy giggling, groaning, cropping and resizing.***
* * *
* And I am going to my piano lesson tomorrow, and I hope I’m going to home tower bell practise tomorrow evening, although this will slightly depend on whether Oisin had to ring for a taxi and I had one of my getting-into-the-dog-bed-with-the-dogs homecomings. If I go to my piano lesson, I will pull myself together, even if I don’t have anything to pull myself together with. But I’ve been one-foot-after-another, note by note and bar by bar, persevering my erratic way through Lyke Wake Dirge, and I want to show it to somebody.
** Adorable. But frelling. And a nightmare.
*** The latest WordPress is, generally speaking, much to be preferred to the previous one. With the exception of its insistence that ALL photos have too many pixels or gnomes or something in them and you have to get rid of a few thousand. This evening it’s even been insisting that the cropped ones are too large. Come on. Get a grip.
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