Well, more like occasional glimpses of warm sunshine - but still, yesterday was a special day when we were invited to join Jon & Shelley Haggerwood at a camping, swimming weekend at Watermead Park near Leicester.
Jon & Shelley, as most of you know, lost their Italian Bracco Spinone Jacob, a few weeks after Sky went missing, and have gone to great lengths, like us, to find him. Sadly - like us - nothing seems to be working and it's radio silence. The link to ther blog is on several of our posts below.
Meeting them was like meeting long lost friends - we've shared the ups and downs over these months, and if there's a chapter in the psychiatry book Losing A Dog Psychosis: Women on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown - then Shelley and I probably tick all the boxes LOL
They were there with fellow Spinone owners and breeders (there aren't many of this unusual and beautiful breed in the world) and a gaggle of Newfoundland dog owners (for dog, read bear) - all practicing retriving skils in the water. It was nice to have a doggy fix. Strange to see dogs having to be enticed out of the water, when Sky would have been in there all day, in seventh heaven.
Tim and I were grateful that this event was close enough to home that we didn't have to become Happy Campers (the adjective least likely to describe Ffion in a tent).
In case you're wondering if we've had any Sky leads since my last post, the answer is no, nothing at all. Just a call from someone saying he was an author researching lost dog stories. Sounded a bit suspect, so I asked him to call back a few days later on a convenient day and never heard back. After Jon & Shelley's fruitcake woman experience I'm a bit cautious.
We put another advert with pictures in the Veterinary Times but that's yielded nothing.
For now, I'll take solace in my Hooligan Hens and Gay Ducks (so-named by a friend who thinks they're far too bullied by The Girls). Houdini was true to her name this morning and after hearing some clucking from a strange direction had Tim and I leaping out of bed half dressed combing the lane (me looking particularly glamorous with my bed-hair). She was shortly returned by the pheasant keeper who works the lake at the bottom of our land, who saw her in the cow field.
She got her first warning after this (I believe in Supernanny). "Chicken stew!" I said. But didn't mean it of course.
Jon & Shelley, as most of you know, lost their Italian Bracco Spinone Jacob, a few weeks after Sky went missing, and have gone to great lengths, like us, to find him. Sadly - like us - nothing seems to be working and it's radio silence. The link to ther blog is on several of our posts below.
Meeting them was like meeting long lost friends - we've shared the ups and downs over these months, and if there's a chapter in the psychiatry book Losing A Dog Psychosis: Women on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown - then Shelley and I probably tick all the boxes LOL
They were there with fellow Spinone owners and breeders (there aren't many of this unusual and beautiful breed in the world) and a gaggle of Newfoundland dog owners (for dog, read bear) - all practicing retriving skils in the water. It was nice to have a doggy fix. Strange to see dogs having to be enticed out of the water, when Sky would have been in there all day, in seventh heaven.
Tim and I were grateful that this event was close enough to home that we didn't have to become Happy Campers (the adjective least likely to describe Ffion in a tent).
In case you're wondering if we've had any Sky leads since my last post, the answer is no, nothing at all. Just a call from someone saying he was an author researching lost dog stories. Sounded a bit suspect, so I asked him to call back a few days later on a convenient day and never heard back. After Jon & Shelley's fruitcake woman experience I'm a bit cautious.
We put another advert with pictures in the Veterinary Times but that's yielded nothing.
For now, I'll take solace in my Hooligan Hens and Gay Ducks (so-named by a friend who thinks they're far too bullied by The Girls). Houdini was true to her name this morning and after hearing some clucking from a strange direction had Tim and I leaping out of bed half dressed combing the lane (me looking particularly glamorous with my bed-hair). She was shortly returned by the pheasant keeper who works the lake at the bottom of our land, who saw her in the cow field.
She got her first warning after this (I believe in Supernanny). "Chicken stew!" I said. But didn't mean it of course.
