Good with words

Fear... distractions.... the efforts of a self-employed writer to pay the mortgage.... all that jazz.

Friday, January 06, 2006


All I seem to be talking about right now is wee and poo: to our new neighbours, husband, kitchen sales rep, editors and clients. This must be what it's like when you're a new mother and totally absorbed by your arrival's toilet and eating habits. But then it would be worse, obviously. At least I don't actually get weed on. (Steve did, but it was his own fault.)

I am even considering some kind of eating/sleeping/pooing wall chart, to enable me to better predict when she needs to go out and when I should be ready with the Dettol. There must be some sort of pattern, or do puppies prefer to keep us on our toes?

And does anybody know why puppies eat poo? I would like to read some scientific research on the matter. Forget the Christmas retail boom and Celebrity Big Brother, I want to read more about poos and wees.

It doesn't even seem to matter whose poo it is.

I don't think our new neighbours must have a very high opinion of me just yet.

Although that implies that one day they might, which is probably hopeful.


  • At 6:20 AM, Blogger Liz said…

    Alun, Chris and I had a good conversation about poo yestreday. Chris's story involved Barbara getting up in the night and walking into a pile of Billie's poo and it squishing up between her toes.
    Alun topped that with his tale of when Ellie was ill and he got into bed with her to help her settle and it was dark and she was sick on his face. In his eyes and mouth and everything.
    My stories were tame after those.


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