Wednesday, February 2, 2011
In case you're not aware, that header represents "screaming like a little girl."
I've been growing increasingly impatient with DITHER as a Life Principle, also its close relative, Shilly-Shally, and everything came to a head yesterday morning...soooo...I emailed the proprietrix of the kennel whence come the Gordon Setters.
Actually it was--I think--the recklessness of a fellow RevGal in posting up a pic of a Bernese Mountain pup. With bed-head. TOO MUCH TO BEAR, friends.
So after months of drooling over the kennel website, and boring all my acquaintances pallid with switherings and ditherings about Gordon Setters, I emailed the Kennel Goddess.
And she answered me. (Reprise on the screaming, above)
And this very evening, I am going to a hitherto unknown place to observe agility classes. With Gordon Setters. Being agile, presumably.
Thing is: I've never had a dog, not ever, not even a little negligible penwiper dog. I've always wanted a dog. Always. A big dog. Preferably a setter. And Irishes, although lovely beyond words, are, well, differently clued, right?
Hence, the Gordons. Big ol' black'n'tan dog. Yup. With a gentle expression in its eyes, says so, right here in the book. Kind of a dog-a-logue book, it is.
My boss, Fabrector, has lent me the Monks of New Skete book on puppy raising. Fabrector has a big ol' dog of her own, and he is trained to a HAIR and is all "Ma'am yes ma'am"...a great encouragement to dog ownership for the timid. Yesterday morning he went out of is way to demonstrate to me what a Good Thing it would be, for me to have one of my own. There was affectionate leaning on, there was affectionate cuddling, there were dog kisses, there was chin-on-your-knee with upturned-adoring-gaze. I would think he had hacked into my email...
I'll keep you posted. (for "psoted," read "bored...")