One of life's little ironies

The aforementioned pup duly arrived on Saturday afternoon, the tiniest, sweetest little bundle of Whirrier (Whippet x JRT) and this morning I've just done a 100 mile round trip to hand him over to the family who will be fostering him in Ipswich. Just as I got home, I received a phone call to say that there's a homecheck being carried out for him this afternoon....in Putney. Two miles down the road from where I live and from where said puppy departed this morning! Guess what I'll be doing next weekend!!

Getting busy, slowing down

Getting busy: Things are getting busy in the rescue world with dogs coming in through pre-Christmas dumping. I was on a transport run last weekend for a poor young greyhound bitch who had been used for flapping (illegal greyhound racing). She and one of her kennel mates came in together. Both full of worms, the heaviest flea investation I think I have ever seen in my life and, at five years old, rotten teeth and one with a mouth full of abcesses. They have never received an ounce of medical care but have been expected to run and earn their keep - the only way the owner said the only way he could afford to feed them was to race them. Go figure that one out.

It's a hard call but serial neglect like that is almost as bad as a one-off beating or dumping. Their bodies are put under so much stress with all the infestations it's a wonder they didn't have heart attacks.

We should be having a pupply come to stay this weekend before he moves on to his foster home. This one rescued from travellers. Unfortunately Wales seems to have been snowed in so we can't get him out. Keeping everything crossed for tomorrow. Although sometimes you know it's out of the frying pan and into the fire. This poor pup was rescued by a lady who then handed him into a rescue after being able to find homes for all his litter mates but not him. Unfortunately the rescue in question has a policy of neutering at 12 weeks of age. And that's not good which is why we need to get him to us asap. Sometimes I hate snow.

Slowing Down: Because we don't get many home offers during the pre-Christmas season.

urghhh

The cold has launched itself and I feel awful. Cotton wool head, raspy throat and a tight chest (yes, thank you, that's enough!).

Am I looking for sympathy? Damn right I am.

Brrr.....

It's a bit chilly round the edges this morning. Actually, it's not just chilly around the edges but chilly through to the middle as well. Being so chilly has reminded me of a few things I should/shouldn't do now winter is here:

1. Do not leave your walking boots in the car overnight. They would be warm as toast if you took them back inside to sit by the radiator of an evening

2. Phone the mechanic because I don't know if my car has anti-freeze in it.

3. When you change to your warmer winter coat, remember to take your office keys out of the pockets of the jacket you have been wearing. This is especially important when no-one else is in the office to open the door.

Oh, and I've got a cold coming. I know this because I have gone off tea. For some reason when I have a cold coming I go off tea and start to drink coffee.

Go Google!!

1) Go to http://www.google.com/
2) Type in " failure "
3) Press the 'I'm feeling lucky' button (instead of the google search one)
4) Laugh
5) Forward to others before the Google folks fix this!

THEN TRY THE SAME FOR "french military victories"

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them from prayers or bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds

Wilfred Owenfirst published in 1921

Gosh, blimey and other similar expressions of surprise

Some of my more long-standing readers may well remember this blog, and in particular the penulitmate paragraph which mentions that we got five numbers on the lottery that particular day and got rather a nice little windfall.

Well.....*ahem and coughs in a slightly embarrassed manner*.....it seems we've done it again! We got another five numbers last night and have another nice little windfall to add to it!

Ms Grumpy Knickers

That's me today...grumpy. Hormones are raging and I want to curl up on a ball and have a good cry.

Work is getting me down and that's not helping. I love my job and I'm not planning on leaving it any time soon but there are days when "certain people" make me want to spit. "Certain people" being those that are so selfish and self-centred but think they cover it in a gloss of niceness so that no-one can see what they're really up to. And everyone can.

Hush my mouth

I do find it frustrating that there are often things I would like to blog about, if only to get it off my chest, but the problem is, you just never know who might be reading it. The intermaweb being the popular thing it is, all those I might be writing about could, at some point, stumble across my ramblings. At which point I could possibly lose my friends, get sacked, shunned by my family or put my relationship with OH on seriously rocky ground.

It's a dilemma isn't it?.

We are very proud!!

My mum was nominated for the "Welsh Carer of the Year" in the 2005 Care Forum for Wales Care Awards, in the category "Domiciliary/ Care Home- Care Practitioner Award". She was initially nominated by the care company she works for, was selected to go through to the next round and then made it to the final 7. She had to attend a big dinner in Cardiff last night for the announcement of the winners. And she won her category!!! She is officially a "Welsh Carer of the Year"!!

I'm so proud of her and so pleased to see what she does recognised. She looks after elderly housebound men and women in their own homes and as well as the routine bathing, cooking and cleaning, she goes the extra mile and does their shopping and runs errands for them. She treats her clients with respect, rather thanthem just being a job. They become friends and she genuinely cares for them.

I am so proud of her!!

Fireworks

I hate fireworks. I used to love them until I got a Lurcher that is terrified of them. Lurcher No.1 doesn't bat an eyelid but Lurcher No.2 becomes a quivering panting heart pumping like a steamtrain wreck at the first bang.

It's so bad that I took advice from my vet who has prescribed an anti-anxiety drug for him. So far they work well - as long as you get them down his neck in time. That's sometimes difficult around West London as you never know when the damn things are going to start going off. Just when you think they've quietened down for the evening, off we go again. They've now been going off every evening for the last 10 days and I'm betting we still have a way to go.

I'm fed up with the damn things already. Enough is enough. Why can't they be limited to 5th November, or the closest Saturday and leave it at that?