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Ready, set, breakfast

September 9th 2011 21:19
daisy greyhound

DAISY: I am intelligent because I have recognised the pattern of events each morning which culminates in the presentation of my half slice of toast. The popping of the little machine and the scraping of the metal blade across bread are preliminary signals. But it is the cutting noise, when the blade separates the piece of bread into two portions, that is the true sign. When I hear that noise, I bound from the sofa, run out the trap door and head around to the side door where, I know, Big Boss will immediately appear with my warming morning treat.

SCRATCHY: I am intelligent because I have worked out that, when Daisy bolts off the sofa and out the trap door in the morning, breakfast is ready.

greyhounds scratchy

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Patting thin air

August 17th 2011 07:32
pet dog greyhound scratchy
Okay, I'm ready for that pat now.
Scratchy strolled into the study for a pat. As he got close to my chair, I reached out a hand without taking my eyes off the computer screen.

My hand found only thin air.

I looked and Scratchy had lowered himself into a languid stretch, the sort greyhounds are so perfectly built to do.

“Hold that pat,” he said, “while I stretch.”

I switched my attention back to the screen but eventually, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him straighten up, and I reached out a hand.

My hand found only thin air again.

Little Boss had walked past the study in the direction of the kitchen and Scratchy had bolted after her.

“Hold that pat,” he barked back at me, “while I check what’s happening in food central.”



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Culled kangaroos and pet food

July 19th 2011 11:12
Not for the first time, an American friend has expressed fascination, in an incredulous kind of way, with the fact that Australians happily eat kangaroo meat. It’s something which hasn’t caught on anywhere else yet, but then again it’s something which took its time catching on around Australia.

It started here as pet food, which helps justify writing this report on a dog blog to dog lover friends.

I can remember, back in the 1970s or 1980s, that South Australia was the only state in Australia where it was legal to sell kangaroo meat for human consumption. It was available around the country as pet food, but only in the trendy state of SA (we had a Premier who wore pink hot pants into sessions of parliament) was it sold as human food.

This meant – shock horror - that it was available in some of the more adventurous restaurants, who actually claimed that it was both healthy and delicious. We just shook our heads. These, we thought, are weird times.

I remember that kangaroo meat, when sold as pet food, came with a warning: don't feed your pets on kangaroo meat alone. The reason for the warning is that it is about 99 per cent fat free - the leanest of all meats - and dogs and cats fed kangaroo meat would actually needed supplemental fats for a rounded diet.

The next major point to make here is that kangaroos are a pest in Australia. There are millions of them. They move in groups of several hundred, they can jump tall fences, and they can strip a 200-acre wheat paddock overnight. The government has sponsored controlled culling for decades now, something considered essential by Aussie farmers and reprehensible by global animal rights groups far removed from the reality.

Fast forward to three weeks ago when an old Hong Kong friend (I lived in Hong Kong for 16 years) came to visit me in Melbourne. He's American, and when I asked what he'd like me to cook for him, he said, "I hear you guys actually eat kangaroo."

“Indeed we do,” I said. It’s been legal, and reasonably popular, nationwide for decades now.

Eating kangaroo is like eating the finest, softest, most delicious red meat imaginable, and with a minuscule fat content, it is healthy. I have cooked kangaroo many times. I made it for my American friend pan-fried in a red wine and Dijon mustard jus, and served it with mashed potato and broccolini.
He’s still talking about it. He posted pictures on Facebook of me cooking, and of the dish as served. I'll try to find them and repost them here some time.

Here endeth my kangaroo story.
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pet dog greyhound

Weekends in our house are marked by battles of wills.

These battles don’t happen on week days, when I get up so early the dogs don’t even leave the sofas to say good morning. They don’t stir until they hear the magic sound – knife scraping butter on toast – and then they scoot to the back door for their daily half slice.

Daisy says warm toast goes down well on these cold mornings, but not before the pleasure of licking the yummy white stuff off the top. Scratchy says half a slice is inadequate for an elite athlete and probably a breach of international pet-care conventions.

Toast consumed, however, the dogs return to the sofas. It’s at least an hour before Little Boss will appear and begin the real business of the day, which is going for a walk. They can not understand why Big Boss chooses to be awake during sleeping hours, let alone actually let himself quietly out the front door and disappear into the night.

It’s dark and cold out there. Humans really are a mystery sometimes.

Things change on weekends. I still get up early – sleeping in is a talent I seem to have lost somewhere along the way - and still make toast for everyone. I then disappear into the study while the dogs return to the sofas. The house is quiet, the world is peaceful. For about one hour.

Walkies time.

Little Boss hasn’t lost her talent for sleeping in, and it is a formidable talent. She has won intergalactic snoozathons and is in several sleeping halls of fame. On weekends, therefore, she regularly sleeps past walkies time, and the Battle of Wills commences.

It goes like this. Scratchy: “Whine.” Daisy: “Whine.” Big Boss: “Shut up.” Repeat every thirty-seven seconds.

It’s going on again right now. How am I supposed to concentrate on important things like Freecell? If Little Boss doesn’t wake soon, I am going to stand outside the bedroom door and whine too.
sleeping dogs greyhound


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Speedy Gonfluffball

July 1st 2011 23:39
maltese
Catch me if you can. My grandma's eighth cousin was a whippet.


Scratchy: Fluffball incoming.

Daisy: On our side of the street too. We’ll get to say hello.

Fluffball: Yap. Yap. Yap yap yap. Bark.

Little Boss: Hello. Aren’t you cute.

Scratchy: Cute was not a word that came to my mind.

Daisy: Good morning sweetness. Can I suggest you stick to yapping. Your bark lacks, how should I put this, gravitas.

Fluffball: Yap. Yap. Yap yap yap. Bark.

Daisy: Sigh.

Little Boss: Are you a Maltese?

Fluffball’s human: A Maltese cross. But she loves big dogs. She’d love to run with yours.

Scratchy: Haha. Hahaha. Hahahaha. Hahahahahaha. Garrckkk …

Daisy: Are you all right Scratchy?

Scratchy: (Gasping). Did you hear what that human said? My eyes are watering and my stomach hurts.

Little Boss: How nice. Of course, a Maltese might struggle just a little to keep up with a greyhound.

Fluffball’s human: You’d be surprised. She’s just so fast. Friends of mine say she’s got whippet in her.

Daisy: Garrckkk …




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Dogs that go thump in the night

June 25th 2011 00:27
pet dog greyhound scratchy
Sigh. Scratchy's snoring again.

It’s deep into the night. It’s quiet.

[ Click here to read more ]
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Welcome home

May 23rd 2011 17:46
Daisy dog greyhound

Scratchy: Well, you made a fool of yourself.

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Dear Sophie

May 21st 2011 07:26
stonefly lodge sophie
The town of Nelson, in the north of New Zealand’s South Island, is surrounded on all sides by mountains and national parks. The mountains are snow-capped for much of the year. They also divert wind and rainclouds from the valley in which the city nestles, making it almost permanently calm and sunny in Nelson.

The mountains are magnificent. Every morning the city’s residents wake and look at the mountains and feel sorry for the rest of the world which does not share the privilege of this view


[ Click here to read more ]
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Poor Scratchy

May 21st 2011 07:22
pet dog greyhound scratchy daisy
Scratchy: Guys, we’ve just heard from Big Boss, and we have an emergency! He’s still in that New Zealand place and he says he’s in love – firstly with New Zealand but, secondly, with another dog!

Daisy: Would you calm down, you out-of-control canine. He likes all dogs. This one lived at a lodge he stayed at and they became good friends. She probably reminded him of us


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Fair's fare

May 10th 2011 11:48
pet dog greyhound scratchy
Any chance of leaving me some?

Less is more, if you believe in the philosophy of minimalism.

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You have to laugh

May 7th 2011 10:38
laughing dog
Very funny

We had lunch with our dear friend Julia today.

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Scratchy’s missed feast

May 1st 2011 07:08
pet dog greyhound scratchy

Last night Scratchy’s sleep was influenced by magic and canine gods and goddesses.

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Watch dog

April 24th 2011 21:55
pet dog greyhound scratchy

Guess what. I’ve learned to tell the time.

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A gathering of greyhounds

April 23rd 2011 22:17
greyhound dog pet zoomies
"There is supposed to be a gathering of greyhounds around here somewhere."

greyhound dog pet zoomies
"I see trees of green, red roses too, but of gathered greyhounds, there's none, in my view."

[ Click here to read more ]
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