Wednesday, 1 January 2014

Wednesday 1 January 2014

Good day - and a very happy new year to you, dear reader.  'Twas an early bedtime for my partner and the two girls, Betty and Gisèle, although they did stay awake long enough to hear the chimes of good old Big Ben ringing in the new year.  Let us hope that it brings much happiness to all.

To judge, however, from the scenes outside my partner's windows it would seem that the weather is not terribly happy.  A fearsome gale is (literally) howling around the small cul-de-sac and large drops of rain are hurling themselves against the window-panes.  Having witnessed well over 20 storm-felled trees in the woods yesterday, my partner is not minded to expose the two furry blossoms to these wild elements (and not just for fear that they might all get gusted away to the magical land of Oz and squash a witch. Though, having barked that, I'm sure Gisèle would love some pretty ruby slippers; Betty, on the other paw, would merely chew them).  The girls aren't terribly happy about this - but, as I can read in my partner's eyes every time the wind howls with renewed force, it only takes one windblown branch to fall upon a furry head...  It simply isn't worth the risk; especially so when one has a garden that the girls can use for "necessities".

Betty and Giz very much enjoyed their walk in the woods yesterday.  The weather was not unpleasant, despite the débris from the previous storm and good fun was had by all (except, possibly, the squirrels who attracted the girls' attentions).  Regular readers of my humble musings may recall that Betty has a muzzle, purchased after an unfortunate episode last year (and of which there is no need to bark).  My partner -  recognising that said muzzle was not required at home with Gisèle, yet not inattentive to Elizabeth's temper directed towards others when out and about - decreed that Betty must (despite protests from BOTH girls) wear her muzzle on walks.  Betty did not go quietly.  At length, however, she accepted my partner's argument and was content (it was a very soft and comfortable muzzle, after all).  Giz, however, detected a rich seam of p*ss-taking to be enthusiastically mined...

Oh dear...
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