Look, y'all have shared all your cat photos...
Mum has bought a shiny new camera in anticipation of the trip -- it's fantastic, very close to the professional ones I use at work.
We've been faffing around with it a bit, and I thought that I'd share a photo or two of my own Jack with you.
Jack is my dog, in spite of the fact he hasn't lived with me, except for short intervals when I've come back to live with Mum and Dad, for a decade. He's getting on now -- nearly fifteen -- but he's still the most beautiful-natured, loyal, loving dog I've ever encountered. The chief joy of his young life was to round up cattle; when we got rid of the cattle from the home farm he lost that, because he wasn't allowed to chase the deer (they have a bad habit of falling down dead when chased) and he knew that chasing the guinea fowl was futile (they had a bad habit of flying away while he was trying to draft them). So he contented himself with mustering small packs of children for years, to the point where you'd be headed in one direction and suddenly find yourself somewhere completely different, thanks to the tenacity of one border collie cross.
I'm a bit teary this weekend, as I'm fairly sure I'll never see Jack again. So I'm pleased to have taken a couple of decent photos of him to take with me.
In the interests of fairness, this is Midge, who was my grandmother's dog. Mum inherited him last year, and he adores her to bits. She, a cat person to the death, can't figure out how she's become "a woman who owns dogs, plural." But she also allows that, "it's hard not to get fond of something that loves you so unconditionally." He's also fiercely loyal, quite stupid looking, and terribly annoying in the manner of small dogs. I've got a big soft spot for him, though, because as Mum says, he wants only to be loved in life.
We've been faffing around with it a bit, and I thought that I'd share a photo or two of my own Jack with you.
Jack is my dog, in spite of the fact he hasn't lived with me, except for short intervals when I've come back to live with Mum and Dad, for a decade. He's getting on now -- nearly fifteen -- but he's still the most beautiful-natured, loyal, loving dog I've ever encountered. The chief joy of his young life was to round up cattle; when we got rid of the cattle from the home farm he lost that, because he wasn't allowed to chase the deer (they have a bad habit of falling down dead when chased) and he knew that chasing the guinea fowl was futile (they had a bad habit of flying away while he was trying to draft them). So he contented himself with mustering small packs of children for years, to the point where you'd be headed in one direction and suddenly find yourself somewhere completely different, thanks to the tenacity of one border collie cross.
I'm a bit teary this weekend, as I'm fairly sure I'll never see Jack again. So I'm pleased to have taken a couple of decent photos of him to take with me.
In the interests of fairness, this is Midge, who was my grandmother's dog. Mum inherited him last year, and he adores her to bits. She, a cat person to the death, can't figure out how she's become "a woman who owns dogs, plural." But she also allows that, "it's hard not to get fond of something that loves you so unconditionally." He's also fiercely loyal, quite stupid looking, and terribly annoying in the manner of small dogs. I've got a big soft spot for him, though, because as Mum says, he wants only to be loved in life.