Wee Jockie needed a haircut (see photo in earlier posting). So I dragged him along to the local poodle parlour. Probably the wrong time of year to rob him of his warm topcoat but it had to be done. His fur was constantly getting tangled up in burrs, brambles and twigs. And he was beginning to smell. No wonder the madame of the poodle parlour (and especially her two big white poodles) looked absolutely horrified when I dropped him off. Emerged a couple of hours later looking like a very poofy woofy. Bright white and smelling of roses. Hardly recognised the little blighter. Gave him a walk with Sprocket up the cemetery run. He seemed quite perky. Maybe he was chuffed with his new hairstyle. Or, more likely, he was just pleased to be out of that poodle parlour hell hole. Took a few snaps of the old orchard trees. They look a bit spooky at this time of year. Fiddled with one of the photos using this computery nonsense. Came out rather well. Cheating, I know, but what the hell. Also took a snap of our house from across the valley. Not exactly interesting but, hey, it is winter after all. Chilly too. Just ask Jock.
A Winters's Harvest
1 week ago