Life moves along at Regalridge. Our Ken keeps busy with the dogs and Lee battles paper while rustling Airedales in the kitchen. Christmas is surrounding the kennel with everything from Sirius radio to every television commercial extolling the virtues of the season. Our Ken has his nose in the Lee Valley catalogue and while there may be something in it that he is not desperately in need of, it doesn't seem that way as he circles, circles, circles. And according to the television, life cannot not be considered a success without a new Kia - who knew? - well, maybe Tony but he was keeping it a secret. And speaking of Tony - there is a less well kept secret and a rumour that Miss Avalon is now Princess Champion Avalon-In-Charge-Of-Everything. Wonderful news. Our Ken continues to cultivate - this time his winter birds. There are Blue Jays in double digits, Mourning Doves that are tilting toward the hundreds and two Chickadees. The Woodpeckers have returned in two sizes and Linda's gift to Ken of a bird bath is proudly displayed under the naked chestnut tree. The squirrels are in residence, of course, and the battles between the little rodents and the Jays are a sight to behold. The sides are well matched so it is never a given as to outcome. Occasionally the Crows reinforce the Jays, leaving the battles somewhat lop sided but even more amusing. A bag of corn from the market across the road has proven wildly popular - there is no doubt a winter load of corn to be delivered soon. And post-Paris, the report on the scythe is that Our Ken knows not how he has survived this long without this handy curved weapon. The gardens have, apparently, benefited greatly.
Little Bella is managing her side of the kennel with little-Bella aplomb. Nobody is stepping out of line. Sarah is sulking and Lola is considering her options. Trebia would like to know what we have done with her boyfriend. Capone and Chopper arrived with their special diets and biog smiles. They are in splendid isolation on the west side of the building and are enjoying their palatial digs. Ruari and Finn arrived - accompanied by their older brother who declined the opportunity to stay with them for the three weeks. Perhaps if Warren had sent along his food? Both are settled, Ruari with his yogourt augmented by Ken's cheese to mask his meds. Good thing his Terrierness is easily convinced.
The house dogs are well. Little May carries on, fueled by Our Ken's grilled burgers - this week lean ground beef from the market. there is an occasional foray into a dish of dog food if adequately jazzed up with grated Asiago. Abigail watches these machinations with a jaundiced eye. The two Laurel puppies are adorable. Gabe (named by Our Andie) is one of the most impressive male puppies we have had and is a true personality. There is a ready glint in his eye, a wagging tail and a slapping paw, urging us on to better games. Izzy (Andie again), his sainted sister, is the smartest of the three puppies and an absolute delight. Her tail is never down, even with its impressive length. They are the best of friends and let others into their pack with the acknowledgement that it is a privilege. Breezy is the elder statesman of the puppy crowd, teaches the younger ones all she learns and continues her education in the company of Marguerite - likely an error on our part! She is the voice of enthusiasm and immediacy. When a Breezy moment occurs, all are aware - she lets her thoughts be known and expects remediation - then. She is the morning alarm, the dinner bell and the harbinger of bedtime. And somehow she has managed to occupy two crates - one is her 'eating crate', requiring its occupant to run in and out of its door until food appears. Her enthusiasm is second only to her vocal entreaties. There is a leap into the crate, a swing and turn, a moment of an enquiring look and head sticking out of the open door then a bound out, all to be repeated until food appears. Would that we all had that combination of energy, determination and assurance that our wishes would always be acceded to.
Dinner was a regional affair. There was fresh salmon in steak form, pan fried to perfection and very tasty. Local potatoes were riced and accompanied local turnip and Our Ken's squash. Brownies were available in abundance and fresh local pears are fabulous here in the fall. A nice Riesling helped everything. And life goes on
Little Bella is managing her side of the kennel with little-Bella aplomb. Nobody is stepping out of line. Sarah is sulking and Lola is considering her options. Trebia would like to know what we have done with her boyfriend. Capone and Chopper arrived with their special diets and biog smiles. They are in splendid isolation on the west side of the building and are enjoying their palatial digs. Ruari and Finn arrived - accompanied by their older brother who declined the opportunity to stay with them for the three weeks. Perhaps if Warren had sent along his food? Both are settled, Ruari with his yogourt augmented by Ken's cheese to mask his meds. Good thing his Terrierness is easily convinced.
The house dogs are well. Little May carries on, fueled by Our Ken's grilled burgers - this week lean ground beef from the market. there is an occasional foray into a dish of dog food if adequately jazzed up with grated Asiago. Abigail watches these machinations with a jaundiced eye. The two Laurel puppies are adorable. Gabe (named by Our Andie) is one of the most impressive male puppies we have had and is a true personality. There is a ready glint in his eye, a wagging tail and a slapping paw, urging us on to better games. Izzy (Andie again), his sainted sister, is the smartest of the three puppies and an absolute delight. Her tail is never down, even with its impressive length. They are the best of friends and let others into their pack with the acknowledgement that it is a privilege. Breezy is the elder statesman of the puppy crowd, teaches the younger ones all she learns and continues her education in the company of Marguerite - likely an error on our part! She is the voice of enthusiasm and immediacy. When a Breezy moment occurs, all are aware - she lets her thoughts be known and expects remediation - then. She is the morning alarm, the dinner bell and the harbinger of bedtime. And somehow she has managed to occupy two crates - one is her 'eating crate', requiring its occupant to run in and out of its door until food appears. Her enthusiasm is second only to her vocal entreaties. There is a leap into the crate, a swing and turn, a moment of an enquiring look and head sticking out of the open door then a bound out, all to be repeated until food appears. Would that we all had that combination of energy, determination and assurance that our wishes would always be acceded to.
Dinner was a regional affair. There was fresh salmon in steak form, pan fried to perfection and very tasty. Local potatoes were riced and accompanied local turnip and Our Ken's squash. Brownies were available in abundance and fresh local pears are fabulous here in the fall. A nice Riesling helped everything. And life goes on
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