where the writers are
A Cautionary Tail
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Hey, Willow, you should have warned your Person about those gondola trips. Apparently, sometimes, when you sign up for nice leisurely and romantic rides on the Grand Canal, the mafioso whips out an Evinrude, slips it on the stern and you whoosh up to St Mark's Square like a sailfish on heat. What a way to rob the punter! Either of them!! No time for 'O Solo Miaow' or a chop-licking Cornetto!

Speaking of which, I'm fine with sniffing badgers and foxes, a whiz in the rabbit steaks and rats...well! According to Robert Browning (the poet with the gravy!) they fought the dogs and killed the cats which makes 'em pretty smart in my book. Eau de feline is guaranteed to drive me up the wall. Honestly! I reckon evolution is about to take a quantum leap towards dogs sprouting wings. On second thoughts, perhaps not: unfortunately the relevant parts have been tampered with. I get dizzy thinking about it. It makes the withers tingle.Thank goodness they've stopped docking tails!

You want to get that Shift Key sorted. It's a tricky one. I've tried it with both paws on the keyboard at once when Herself is out of the room. I crack on it's an email from Billy Connolly when she comes back.

Stay Cool - Oh yes, I recall from your guest blog yesterday that you are doing. A bit too cool!

Wags,

Jack (canine in much waiting to the writer in residence on this patch.)

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blog hijacking

hey jack--thanks for the tips on the shift key, still can't get a handle on it though. always did have a problem with the co-ordination thing since the burglars broke my pelvis (long story, but i come out like a hero of course. see your prson is a member of the society of authors--i have to ask myself why there isn't a society of authors' dogs? how fun would that be? gotta go and pee in the suitcase now (she's packing for her trip). woofs. willow

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Wow, Willow...

...sounds like you've had to do some serious defence of your terriertory! Bit of a hero on the quiet, eh! Not altogether unsung, I hope.

Yep, like your suggestion about authors' dogs. What should we call it? The Bloomsbury Barkers?  Herself reckons it's a brill idea, too. She'd like to get the low-down - and you're particularly well-placed to give it - on other writers from the canine PoV. However, she does say that Virginia Woolf pipped her to the post with Elizabeth Barrett Browning's dog, Flush, who shared my own Latin 4bears. (Bears?! *#&%**?!!)  Can't really follow that, she says.

Text me sometime on the mobile bone. That's if you can get your paws acquainted with the key-pad!

Woofs,

Jack