More puppy pics, please!!!! *
They almost remind me of guinea pigs at this age but I’m sure that will change rapidly as they grow. The mother is adorable, she looks like such a sweet dog.
I think they TOTALLY look like guinea pigs at this stage, and I meant to say so in the last blog and it got left out somehow. Puppies do have little blunt faces, and they’re all blobs to begin with** but in these guys’ case they’re going to grow up to be bull terriers so they get going early on a unique head shape.*** And Lavvy is a sweetheart, I’d be delighted to have a dog just like . . . er.
THEY’RE ALL TAKEN! I’M GLAD THEY’RE ALL TAKEN!
You keep using that phrase. I do not think it means what you think it means.
You are alarming me very much. There are three women, all of whom have had bullies before, and all of whom are (you should forgive the term) panting for a puppy from southdowner’s line, and the dad’s owners. THAT’S FOUR, ISN’T IT? FOUR PUPPIES. FOUR PEOPLE WHO WANT PUPPIES. IT’S OKAY IF I JUST WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM A LITTLE. And if Olivia giggles when she catches my eye . . . well, so what?
I could never cook to a recipe either.
Following exact directions is for wussies.
I have a friend who works in a yarn store, and she says I would be amazed at the number of knitters, both new and experienced, who creep into the shop trembling in fear because they have TAKEN A BREATH THAT WAS NOT IN THE PATTERN and have come to the nearest temple to the goddess† to be sacrificed.†† These must be young people, I said, beyond the rebellious teenage phase, who have settled down to be Contributing Members of Society, and still have a touching faith in the efficacy of rules.
No, she said. Mostly they’re your age.
What? How can you get this old and still believe in RULES?
. . . Anyway. I have finished my first KNITTED OBJECT TO GIVE AWAY!!!!! The NEW Secret Project #1 is COMPLETE!!!!! And . . . um . . . it doesn’t look much like the picture in the book, aside from my entirely necessary and called-for adaptations. Siiiiiiiiigh. I’m trying to decide if it’s the cute end of the ‘oh . . . dear’ scale or the . . .
I hope she doesn’t break anything when she falls down laughing. †††
Diane in MN
I don’t need a third dog! I couldn’t cope with a third dog!
We’ve had three dogs. Three dogs is exponentially more than two dogs. Two dogs is GOOD.
Um. I liked having three dogs. But all three of our whippets together would make about a third of a Great Dane (aside from the superabundance of legs, tails etc), and Peter was going on walks with me then which meant two more available lead-holding hands.
When we bred a litter years ago, we pretty much did nothing but puppies for two months . . . The operative phrase was “what life?”
I have the feeling that Olivia is finding it increasingly difficult to speak in complete sentences. And I’m not sure an expressed willingness to drive across half the country to take your puppies to tea with their dad is the sign of a balanced, rational mind.
And good for you, adapting your knitting patterns to what you want. I love this about knitting.
Well . . . so do I. But I’m not entirely convinced that it’s not a character flaw, before you know what you’re doing. Although you do tend to own the stuff you learn by doing it the hard way in a rich and comprehensive manner that you would just skate over if you were merely following directions. Then you’d be able to blame the directions.
* * *
* There is also a rumour . . . at present merely a rumour . . . that Olivia might be bringing The Four Cutest Puppies in the Universe (and their milk bar) to a location not hopelessly far away from here^, on Bank Holiday Monday, I think to show them off to the dad’s owner, who I think gets pick of the litter, which is to say the day after tomorrow.
If this proves to be the case I may have a little field trip on Monday.
^ I mean by my standards
** I’m sure I’ve told you many times how startling it is to meet your first whippet/sighthound/dramatic undercarriage litter and observe that they too are undifferentiated puppy blobs . . . with little blunt faces and tiny soft triangular ears.
† Of course there are many lovely male knitters. The god of knitting is nonetheless a goddess.^
^ She appears to me rather frequently, clutching her forehead and biting the ends of her beautifully decorated ritual needles.+
+ She has many, many sets of these, suitable for all occasions and high holy days. Many of them have teethmarks in them.
†† And their blood drained off and made into Blood Yarn. If they can make yarn out of milk they can certainly make it out of blood.^
^ It’s all about the protein solids. Ewwww.
††† Meanwhile I’ve got started on the second one. Got halfway through and . . . had to rip the freller back to a heap of rickrack. ARRRRRRGH. Some of you may remember my doing exactly the same thing to Secret Knitting Project Number One about a fortnight ago. I HOPE THIS IS NOT A NECESSARY PART OF THE SYSTEM. Arrrrrrgh.
Also, even I’m not insane enough to unwind the rest of the skein so I can’t tell by where the rewind ends how much remedial knitting I’m doing . . . but meanwhile being aware that I’m still FRELLING REKNITTING what I’ve already done once is SOMEWHAT FRUSTRATING.
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