with mustard

I drove home tonight through an incredibly thick sea fog. It was quite impressive, really. What sort of fog rolls in at 5pm? Don’t fogs usually come early in the morning or late at night? I think it must be a Portent. Of Doom, of course. I don’t think there are any other kinds of Portents. Perhaps next there will be a plague of frogs. Or boils. Or frogs with boils. Although I may not see them, due to the fog. Am I going around in circles? It’s the fog. I was lucky to make it home at all.

And here at home, shrouded in foggy gloom, there was a Little Dog. Actually he’s quite a Big Little Dog now. He weights 58kg, which makes him the Biggest Little Dog we’ve ever grown. And he’s doing it in fits and starts, like a teenage boy who suddenly grows out of all his clothes and eats all the Weetbix. Would you like to see him?

Well, he’s somewhere in there. Actually, he’s #5 in line. Did you guess him? And can you see why we still call him a Little Dog? This is at his breeders’ house, where we leave him to gallivant around the city/country/globe. In the lineup, his mother is #1 and his sister is next to him at #4. That puppy is no relation, but is Super Cute and when we came to pick up our dog, we almost took her home instead. Because: SUPER CUTE. But has a lot of attitude, as you might expect from one so little who can hold her own in that crowd.

What else? I woke up the other morning distressed about an eBay purchase gone wrong, and lay there fretting about what I was going to say in a sternly worded email and whether it was worth reversing the Paypal or just letting the money go. Then I woke up a little bit more and realised I had dreamt the whole thing. In my view, it was as bad as dreaming about work, then having to get up and go and do the work you were dreaming about (which has also happened, clearly). For the record, all of my eBay purchases are going swimmingly, thanks for asking.

The cats are fine and because it is colder than a witch’s tit here in Melbourne, they have taken to sleeping on the bed. With us. And because they are cats, they don’t know how to share. In fact I can probably blame my stressful eBay dream on them, because when I woke up from that I was distorted into a kind of pretzel shape due to cats pressed against me in uncomfortable positions. In addition, I was freezing because most of my top half was out from under the duvet; somehow when one of my cats curls up on the bed, he magically locks all of the bedding around him in place. There is no way you are dragging any part of that duvet out from under that cat; you’d just better hope you had enough before he got there. And you NEVER DO.