fresh peas

Yet another puppyish post. What can I say, I am practically canine now.

I am finding small people and puppies are so similar I forget which I am dealing with, I say 'good girl' far too much and often don't know to whom I am speaking. Fortunately neither listen nor care so it's all tosh anyway.

Examples of similarities? Biscuits I find can be popped in either mouth with satisfyingly quiet results (few whoops! moments, but again neither dog nor child distinguished lamb or custard flavours, which makes me think - why bother with expensive organic cookies if kibble does the trick on both counts?). Housetraining. Yeah. Accidents all round. No point asking ownership of puddles. Soft toys are happily consumed and coddled equally. The collar and leader has joint ownership and I really hope no one drops by when the biped is taking a turn, it looks, sort of weird.... and creepy, especially when she barks. I do however admire the good imitation and I can always pretend it's from the quadruped. Both cry in the night. Ignore at own peril. Accidentally threw beef shin bone at small girl. And set omelette down in front of pup. Only one complained.



Other household animal news marks the end to Squeak the Guinea Pig. Here are two (mourning, I know, they are good actors) small people smiling as I photograph another dead guinea pig. Why would I get my camera out you may wonder, simply; I was instructed to and had no reasons on hand to try and deter the request. I had someone once comment here (to my dismay and hilarious outrage) they would report me to animal welfare if only they knew where I lived. Bizarre since my chickens roam nearly an acre and the guineas have a run the size of my old house's garden, the dog is fed butcher shop meat and the cat sleeps soundly on my feet at night..... They probably wouldn't have liked to see us try to fit the stiff creature into a too small grave though (note to self for future grave diggings - take out the volume of soil that you estimate the animal would also share - don't be lazy) Otherwise you may end up stamping on the flipped over piece of turf to approximate a smooth lawn. Prior to this, Felix put the guinea in a shoe box (so fat! He fitted a whole size 5 box) and kept popping out to stroke it, despite me screeching at him to stop! Because it's dead! But why quibble over finer points of animal petting, when it's so enjoyed? At least the guinea pig couldn't complain (one small consolation). I asked Esmé to take some veggie scraps out to the guinea pig (meaning the other live one) and then found them stuffed in with the dead one. They went in for the whole taking-things-to-the-after-life bit big time, with Felix including a fabulous drawing (which I wish I had grave pilfered) of Squeak the guinea pig as a Storm Trooper (because in his next life, apparently, he may choose to be one).



The puppy found this, much to girls delight. It was bought by me and never once used by anyone (maybe self in anguish along some motorway). Alas, car journeys were (are) always pretty torturous. Ginny enjoys a nice chew on it and the girl likes popping it back into her mouth - really hoping this is one thing they don't share (I just don't look, it's safer for my sanity).



But there were also peas. Fresh peas.



Fresh peas equal Good Times.