Monday, December 23, 2013

Christmas Eve

Photo of the glorious Dova in her Christmas regalia. Merry Christmas to all!

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Dova Now

I'm in hospital in dire straits at the moment as my swallowing has shut down. So tube feeding and waiting for yet more endless tests.

But, a current picture of glorious Dova. I have this one my desktop in hospital so she meets my eye every time I start it up.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Borzoi Puppy Dova Arrives

Our hearts kept hemorrhaging after losing our Lily, so much so when I told a friend and doggie expert the whole sorry tale, she told me about a top quality borzoi puppy that was available up in Queensland. She knew I had always loved borzois, and having a show quality puppy I could get me hands on was too much to pass up.

Dova has come in to our family and stopped up the holes and made me laugh more than cry.

She was transported door to door, and was a bit tired and confused as she was let out of her crate, but didn't take long to get some food into her and enjoying a cuddle.

She is a delight, with a gentle temperament, wicked puppy ways and huge intelligence. She is growing like a weed and has passed her standard poodle house mate Zara. I am sure when she gets up each morning, she has grown a few more centimetres.

Her close female relative in Queensland is just over 2 years old and has reached 31 inches at the shoulder. That's the height of the average dining table, so she is going to be a big girl.

Soon after she arrived
Loves her squeakies
Sneaking a snooze on the chair - not allowed!

Racing around with Zara

Taken yesterday for the Breeder to see how she's developing

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

"Where to Bury a Good Dog"

Put in my post box today in a card by a dear friend. 

.... "There are various places within which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave.

Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavourous bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost -- if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call -- come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs there.

People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master." Ben Hur Lampman

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Peace at Last

Cuddled gently in my arms, Lily slipped quietly into doggie heaven at 2.30am this morning, assisted by an exceptionally caring vet.

Woken by a massive seizure and seriously disoriented for a long while afterwards, it was a blessed release for us to help her end her suffering.

I got up early and went down to where my lovely man buried Lily at 3am.

The sun was just up, the breeze was still, the dappled sunlight trickling through our little forest onto the fresh turned earth.

My funny old lady sheepies came and stood around me, sensing something profound had happened,

and Chevy came and nibbled my fingers.

We all stood there together and listened to the birds' early morning chatter, and watched a kookaburra swoop low over her grave. Perfect peace and all is well in the world.

R.I.P. my darling girl. ♥ ♥ ♥

Sunday, February 3, 2013

People Are So Clever

Have a gentle cruise through this You Tube video. See Link below: