From the Left: Roy, Thor, Fergus. Our former neighbor Louise and David have gone off for awhile and we are taking their dogs again. They've been banished to le petit cour for a brief spell so that we can sweep vast quantites of hair in preparation of collecting future quantities. As if one dog wasn't enough, we now have trois chien pour un semain, which while it technically is only seven days......seems like seventy.....when you don't have a yard. Being a trois chien wrangler is tough stuff, leashes criss-crossing; dogs jockeying for position; some one always sniffing while someone else wants to run. Then we reach the sacred point past the Chateau where we can safely let them off the leashes and everything is up for grabs. Ladies, hold your skirts down; gentlemen, hold on to your hats. Fergus struggles to herd Roy and Thor, but they refuse to cooperate. They resemble a pack of wild critters, looking for prey, but settling for cow poop, grasses and an occasional kitty. Then they come back to the hair depository, settle in for some napping until we resume activities. OK, Fergus, so having brothers is great fun, but you never clean up after yourselves.
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We've been watching the Dog Whisperer on the National Geographic channel. Talk about dog packs, he's got all these rehabilitated dogs in his pack. Maybe twenty or thirty, when someone has an incorrigible dog he takes the dog to be trained by the pack. Bell watches faithfully, she loves it, Bobo only watches when there is barking. They would love to meet your pack.
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