First things first, as Calamity Jones used to say,
Introductions:
What am I doing here?
Many times when I send friends, or acquaintances, or sometimes complete and utter strangers some mail, their response is, you should be a writer. It has gone to my head, and so I wrote, write, will write, unfortunately only to find that most people are not readers.
So lately the response has become, you should write a blog. So here I am.
Who am I?
Oh, great, I just love philosophy. Who am I, why am I here, how did I get here, how do I know that I am, I am what I am...?
I am curious in the scientific sense, love a bad pun, love my dogs and the other critters on the farm (which includes my husband), love to write, am approaching the half century mark, am mostly honest, except about my weight, am a talker, a milkmaid, a cheese-maker, a frustrated artist, a writer, a thinker (well, I can sit like that), a poor rider, a better driver, and I guess now I can add blogger to the list.
Where am I?
Fly-over country, in the U.S. of A. You won't find it on a map, but when you fly east west or north south, chances are you are passing directly over my head. I live on a small patch of prairie. But I am not a native, far from it. You might have noticed my accent - people always do. It drives me batty, because it is like having a big nose... sure there are things you can do about it, but they are either expensive or painful, or most likely both.
Most of this blog will be about my dogs, so you should meet them here. There are four of them, two girls (bitches, as we correctly and often fondly refer to them, and it is not derogatory but rather the correct use of the term), two boys. All are neutered, because they are pets and I am certainly not interested in breeding them, but just to be contrary, I tend to have the occasional purebred, pedigreed pampered pup, and pride myself greatly on this 'accomplishment' that has nothing to do with me, or only with my checkbook. Two of the dogs are Briards, and if you don't know about the breed, hang on, you will soon find out. Two are mutts, mixed breeds, unique canines with uncertain heritage that defies definition and even DNA tests. Okay, I am too cheap to spend money on DNA tests for my dogs. I don't see the point of it, since there is no way we can collect any paternity payment, even if their ancestry were known.
Rather than bore you with thousands of words, let me show you the 'gang':
Ralph, a five year old Briard, with natural ears, in his house.
Ralph and Decibel, the Briards. Decibel's ears are cropped and up. She is our baby, and still growing.
Skeeter, who came from an Oklahoma shelter. They SAID he was a dog.
Maggie, from a Kansas shelter. She is our oldest, and might be the smartest.
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