Being Crossed

Truce. Winifred shows Albert her arse

The secret of coping with a minor war between two animals is threefold
1. Keep both well fed
2. Keep both well exercised
3. Have a dirty  " look"that could fell a small child at 20 feet ready if violence is indicted

Albert's bad mood and subsequent whipping of Winifred's arse yesterday afternoon went down like a pork chop at a synagogue. It was all over nothing as Winifred got all hefty and silly following an unthinking face rub from the cat........but the bulldog sulked dreadfully following this uncharacteristic show of feline power and sought her revenge this morning when she caught Albert snoozing on the couch.
Luckily I caught the fat fart with a withering look before she could do some serious damage with her big mouth and her heavy paws and both animals returned to their respective corners
peace has now returned to chez Bwthyn-y-llan.

Bitches, in my experience , never forget a slight
They are like most women and middle aged gay men in that respect
Cross a bitch and her eyes will narrow ever so slightly she she sees you
Cross me and I will do the same

Winifred will have her revenge
In this life ....or the next

Bitch Slap

Action shot

One small black cat

Bitch slapping

One 26 kilo bulldog

Beer Swigging Undead

Local teens before dressing up

The Americanisation of  Halloween has, for the most part, passed Trelawnyd by. Three girls of around 11 dressed , I think , as ghosts quietly lurked down the lane for a few minutes last night, and called out a rather polite and reedy " trick or treat" when I was unloading the Berlingo of the weekly shop.
We didn't have any treats ( thanks weightwatchers) so I bunged them a couple of quid. They are the first trick & treaters that we have seen for a few years now.
When I went to town to complete the shop at the supermarket, the scene was very different indeed!
Packs of bored looking teens seemed to lurk around every street corner, waving  light up devil forks and blood stained hands. A group of four Osama Bin Laden lookalikes were having a " chat" to a policeman by the petrol station and even the checkout supervisor at Tescos was decked out as a zombie hospital patient in a bloodstained smock.....a fact that got on my tits somewhat.
I am not a fan of dressing up at work
( I once watched a very difficult conversation between a bereaved relative and a nurse with tinsel weaved around her hat)
As I was driving out of town there was another large group of teenage zombies sitting on the playing field swigging at cans of lager......which I thought wasn't quite in the real spirit of The Walking Dead but as I carried through the large village of Dyserth I did notice a few tots  dressed as pumpkins running around excitedly with their mothers between houses.........that scene was a little more wholesome and reminiscent of ET than the beer swigging undead.
Speaking of the undead.......I am going to miss episode 3 of The Walking Dead tonight....... Working!

A Little Lesson About Dying

Before 9am there was a knock on the cottage door.
It was a lady who had taken part in my first " Chicken Care For Beginners" course a few years ago and she had a problem.
Her daughter's favourite hen, a plump lace Orpington called Tilly, had collapsed. The woman knew it was dying but wanted a second opinion. The bird was wrapped in a child's scarf on her daughter's knee in the back of the car. The daughter looked around seven and was watery eyed.
Her name was Kate
I brought them all into the house and locked the dogs in the front room while I checked the bird over.
Kate chatted away about the hen, telling me all about her, how cheeky she was, how she followed the family dog into the house and the like and when she had finished I asked her how ill she thought the hen was.
" I think she's very ill" she said seriously
" I think you're right " I told her trying to weigh up all of the options open to us.
I could cull the hen for them, but the act didn't quite seem appropriate somehow...especially when faced by a tearful little girl who had wrapped her dear hen in her own scarf. A trip to the vets seemed a bit of an overkill given the fact the hen was more or less dead..and so I plumped for the easiest option.
" I don't think she's in pain, so what I suggest is that you keep her wrapped up and very warm and quiet, and let her die peacefully at home... It won't be very long" I told her
Kate stroked the hen' s head and nodded a watery nod and a minute later they were back in the car and ready for home.
Her mother winked at me before she drove off...and mouthed in way of explanation of the visit " I couldn't face being the bad guy today" and I nodded that I understood.
Being a parent must be a bleeding hard job sometimes
Thank f"*# I only have to be responsible for animals....
You don't have to explain the death question to them
Hey ho

A Dark Day

There is only one thing worse than seeing a bad film and that is sitting through a bad film with the director sat there in an audience of fifteen hardy souls.
Tonight I went to see the Welsh horror/ adventure film The Darkest Day Which is a cheerful little period piece which the programme described thus
"Set in the aftermath of the famous Viking raid on Lindisfarne in 793 AD, The Darkest Day sheds some light on the brutal reality of Saxon Britain as a Viking raid chase down a monk protecting a Holy Book"
Hummmmm
I managed 34 minutes of it before I followed another decerning cinema goer and  limboed under the projector and slipped out of the cinema .. We were followed by the usher who was sat next to the door.
He looked upset and stopped both of us by stage whispering
" you both aren't going are you? There is a question and answer session after the film...it sounds very interesting!"
I smiled weakly and said ( I can't quite believe this)
" I couldn't stay late because my dogs needs a walk"
The woman behind me was more direct
" I'm off home......The film's crap" she said shortly

Perhaps if here had been a bit of singing..it would have been better

Giving As Good As You Get

Bosoms' new fruit trees!

I took the dogs out for a walk yesterday and when I returned there was a gift waiting for me by the back door.
Two fruit trees and a fruit bush had been left all neatly packaged up alongside a bottle of mite powder and a container of some apple cider vinegar ...a present from two friends from Prestatyn .
Today a large pile of spare egg boxes had been delivered alongside several loaves of stale bread for the animals from someone unknown and back on Sunday afternoon another bag of warm home made scones had been dropped off by a windswept Auntie Glad.
In my mind acts of kindness always need to be repaid.
Being on a limited budget, necessitates some lateral thinking when it comes to gift giving.....having a boost of thirty or so refugee hens has increased my egg production drastically, and so a thank you of a dozen eggs can oil the cogs of good relationships in and outside the village.

Yesterday I went all Mary Berry and made a pumpkin pie, the remainder of which I will share out between the fruit tree givers and Auntie Glad. I have boxed up some eggs too.and will drop everything off today......mind you the lurid looking pie may not be that gratefully received ...it does look like shit on a plate.....

Bitch Slap

As you all know....I adore a good bitch slap

The one at the end of this scene is a cracker

Enjoy

Bulldog Training

It's not been all plain sailing.....

But Winifred has now settled into our cottage and  into our lives.

She remains a hefty, spatially unaware, clumsy dog

Who is surprisingly over active for a breed which has often been labelled lazy and lethargic

some of this may be connected to the fact that her attachment to me is incredibly strong, so

Where I go, she goes , but I am sure that most of her " constant need to be on the go" is a result of an over inquisitive nature

She is a watcher.. And constantly needs to be " in the loop"

She has come to adore her daily walks with the other dogs and will line up  impatiently when the leads are picked up, stamping her fat feet on the mat in excited anticipation

She has now accepted Albert as one of the pack after he had whooped her arse after being cornered in the bathroom

She understands that Meg has top dog position on my knee at all times

And she likes to nip your toes when she is feeling particularly playful.

But, for the most part she will sit right in front of me. Still and alert

With her heavy brown eyes watching mine

I would pay a kings ransom to find out what 

She thinks about

In that big sad bulldog head of hers