le Ding Is Just Fine, Thankyou .....

   I actually wrote this back in June. Then, I guess, life took over and it got caught up in the wash?

  Anyway, I rediscovered it, last night. Nothing, le Ding wise, has changed since I finished this. So, here it is ~ Read it as if I'd typed it tonight ..... 

  I'd only add that le Ding is told he's loved, more times a day than any of the others are in a month! Dingo Dog's not the tactile sort. He doesn't want snuggles and cuddles. So, I Tell him. Fuckin' Love this Dog!

 Every day, as I look at Dingo Dog, and think how well he's doing, it occurs to me that people who knew him, back in england, used to drop by here to keep up with how he was. Now, lately, he seems to have dropped off the radar. I just wouldn't want anyone assuming the worst.

  le Ding is alive and excruciatingly well. Spends every night laying on my legs ~ he's always refused, point blank, to have anything to do with getting under the quilt. Spends every day dashing about the place, or otherwise just being a little sweet heart.

  Three times a week, when I put my double dinners on, he waits, along with Niggy and Pesticle, for me to cut their carrots up. I always get two big carrots out. Bit the size of my thumb goes into my stew. The rest of them I slice up and then feed, individually, to my mad, happy Dogs.

  It must be said; le Ding is the gentlest of the three of them. He uses his lips, rather than his jaws, to softly receive the carrot from my finger tips.

  Fuckin Love this Dog! Here he comes! He caught me watching him, through the window. He'd just gone out to sit on his new bed, in the compound.

  He's adopted a Dingo sized patch of dead grass. I weed killered the compound and now there's patches of wheat coloured, short grass out there. Must be much like a futon, for le Ding? Anyway, he likes to lay on it ~ it's just his shape and size ~ and contemplate the world.

  Likes to occupy his mind gnawing at things too, now and then. Keeps him happy. Bless!