Never work with dogs and children
Southdowner, as you might expect from her user name, has ties to this area*, and she offered to take a swing by here next time, bringing a nice friendly laid back dog so the hellhounds could have an experience of . . . a nice friendly laid back dog, since this area does not seem to produce these much. Today was the day.
. . . Today was also the day that my builder didn’t bother answering his phone messages. We’re not going to have those bits he needs to order for Monday.** My credit card company started leaving robot Security Alert messages on my answer phone which I haven’t had time to ring up a real human being and ask about. Putnams has just sent us the new interior design for FIRE and I don’t like it. The bell ringing postman delivered more little green plantlets.*** My email spam filter has decided that I’m a wicked spy and won’t respond to my salutations† . . . and Computer Man, who was supposed to show up at 10 am this morning, asked to move it to 3 pm this afternoon . . . and at around noon, shortly after Southdowner arrived an hour late thanks to roadworks†† the phone rang again and it was Computer Man asking if he could come now . . . blah . . . and I, distracted by the phenomenon of a third dog in the kitchen†††, agreed, and it wasn’t till he arrived that I comprehended that he was taking the offending apparatus away with him, and it wasn’t till after he’d left that I realised . . .
. . . this includes the mews laptop, with Just a Little Piece for Organ on it, and my piano lesson is tomorrow.
It was at about this point the window-washer showed up.
And lifting Darkness in and out of the car is getting old.
But we did successfully achieve three dogs in the cottage kitchen without bloodshed or breakage. Southdowner and I thought it would be nice to commemorate this moment of happy concord. Whereupon dogs wandered off in various directions and ignored one another. . . .
The one that isn’t Chaos is Rosie. Look at that face. Okay, I want another Alsatian. It’s been too many years.
You might also want to admire the excellent striped sock and rhinestone-studded Birkenstock. You don’t have to, but you might want to.
And that’s the window-washer’s hosepipe in the background. You thought I was joking about the window-washer, didn’t you?
Darkness, who takes his responsibilities as a Discerner of Threat seriously, remained uncertain about Rosie’s righteousness and virtue. I’m fine over here! he says. I don’t want to be in a jolly group photo! Chaos is gullible and naive! You know that!
Cat? Did she say there’s a CAT? Where? I don’t see any cat.
It’s a really small cat.
I’m telling you, I’m fine over here. I’ll just sit down right . . . over . . . here.
Okay, listen. She’s confused now. So I’m going to lie down, you can stand and you over there can sit up. Got it?
Nice dogs. Pity the woman can’t keep her hair under control.
* http://www.nationaltrail.co.uk/southdowns/
** Staircase. Floor. Wall #1. Wall #2. Wall #3. Wall . . .
*** And reminded me that I’m supposed to come to his tower practise some day.
† She wants to let that through? Of course she’s a scoundrel. Heckle her the next time she tries to log on.
†† tea and hellhounds were applied to the sore places
††† Floorspace: a philosophical construct chiefly used by architects and physicists. People leading ordinary lives surrounded by books, dogs, musical instruments, furniture, children, parrots, Converse All Stars, jungles, etc, need not concern themselves with this unlikely theory.
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