So all in
all, life in the Cranstal pack has not changed that much. Flash loves
everybody. Faris loves Flash but is still a thug. Tiisi loves Flash
and is still a pushover. Shala is still working on her long term project
of digging for Britain - now with the able assistance of Flash. And
me? Well, I am just being my usual inscrutable self of course.
Sorceress plus Apprentice!
Manx Image Banx
before Christmas Mopps decided that Shala was struggling to complete
the full one hour walk that we salukis do in the morning. So of course
because it affected Shala - something had to be done!!
Old Routine. Kennelman who got up first left the house at about 8 am
to walk Shala and Faris returning at 9 am when he fed all of us salukis.
Mopps got up after Kennelman had departed on his walk, sorted out the
cats (have never been able to see why this is so important that it
has to be done first) completed her housework and then had breakfast.
At 10 am. Mopps, Tiisi and I, all duly refreshed by a good breakfast,
departed on our walk returning at 11 am in time for morning coffee
for the Twolegs. It worked very well as most days neither of them had
to exchange a word before they had consumed a large cup of coffee!
New Routine. With the arrival of Flash this new routine, although instigated
for Shala, actually works very well as far as walking all of us dogs
is concerned. But it involves Mopps getting up, at the very latest,
the minute she hears Kennelman, Flash and Faris leaving the house.
After sorting out the cats (yes, them first again!) she collects Shala,
Tiisi and myself - so that we can all set off about 25 minutes behind
Kennelman. If everything goes according to plan Mopps and Kennelman
meet up about half way along the walk and Kennelman then walks Shala
back home with Faris and Flash. There is a certain military precision
about the whole plan in some ways - however with it being the Cranstal
household think Moldovian military - rather than Crack British Military
- as the most apt description. In fact in order to proceed with this
tale, you my readers, might appreciate the retention of the military
analogy over the next three paragraphs.
ONE. One Saturday morning - with a suicidal logic - the squad under
the control of Kennelman turned sharp right instead of sharp left on
arriving at the old railway line. Platoon Commander Kennelman - under
sustained interrogation after the
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