Primulee, primula

Following on from yesterday’s meeting with Seymour, today we met a couple of poodles and Megs. The poodles were of two types: one white standard, the other black miniature. The white poodle was male and, therefore, very interested in Freya. The black poodle was female and just wanted to play.

Sad Freya can’t play with the boys

The black poodle reminded me of Day-z even with the outrageous haircut. The woman who owns them enters them in shows – they didn’t win anything last weekend – though, as she said, you’d never think so looking at them today.

The white one wasn’t too bad, apart from his paws, but the black one looked like she’d been walking through a very deep river of mud.

The most impressive though was Megs. She is a dog of unknown parentage, a rescue dog of 17 years of age. She has been with the woman’s family longer than her kids. There appeared to be nothing wrong with her.

Last year, the woman said, her kids were preparing for Megs to leave them. Her daughter arranged for a portrait to be drawn of Megs. Clearly this irritated Megs who rallied and refused to shuffle off the coil. I suggested that the family needs to get a new portrait done every year to ensure her longevity.

Today’s weather was rather changeable. It was quite mild (15°) but there was a bit of a wind when we went to the park. In betwixt and between clouds, the sky was blue and the sun was warm. In fact, it was almost as if Persephone had flown in for the day to remind us she wasn’t far away.

Her presence is being felt all over the garden. Nowhere more so than, ignoring the daffs, the transplanted primulas in the Day-z bed.

Even brighter, Mirinda came home tonight though it was a Wednesday. I made stuffed chicken and we watched the next episode of The Capture.

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