Photos.

After careful weeding, we now have 5 albums and 3 baskets of photos left. That's a good half gone.

I've been debating whether to scan the ones that are left, save them on the computer and chuck the real things. It would certainly save a lot of space. 

I was a baby when we had this dog whose name I do not know.

But there's nothing like photos you can actually hold in your hands, that get crumpled if you're not careful, and that turn brown with age. In fact, if you ask me, the spottiness just makes them more attractive.

Here is my very 1st dog, Cookie. I always thought I had a picture of him looking at me, his bum to camera. I haven't seen that anywhere, which is worrying and I'd forgotten all about this one.

Cookie wasn't a big dog. He just looks that way here because I was smaller then, somewhere around 9 or 10 years old at a guess. 

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As Cookie grew older, and because I nagged and begged him, my father got another dog to add to the family. Her name was Shandy. She was a boxer, not too big, and was fawn coloured with a white star on her forehead. She was possibly the most gentle dog we had. 

A few months after we got Shandy, and for reasons unknown, my father decided to get a little dachshund. He was black and tan and arrived in a box labelled PLEASE TAKE GOOD CARE OF ME. He'd travelled on a train from another town. He was tiny and was predictably named Mickey.

The thing I most remember about Shandy is how maternal she was, even though she must have been less than a year old then. Being so small, Mickey was kept in a pen in the shed for safety. He wasn't too happy about that and howled away. Shandy insisted on keeping him company and would sleep with him every night. 

She was a lovely dog. I wish I knew her better. She died prematurely from cancer.

The thing I most remember about Mickey is hauling him up to my tree house in a basket while Cookie and Shandy went berserk below. He obviously didn't have vertigo issues. Mickey was an excellent ratter and once caught a very pregnant one. As I stood by admiring his handiwork, a baby rat got squeezed out of mama rat in his jaws. I guess I wasn't a squeamish child. Mickey had jaundice later in life and also died prematurely.

I'm still finding it hard to believe I have NO pictures of Shandy and Mickey to show you. Not a single one.

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I don't think I've ever told you about Pepper. 

"Is it dinner time yet?"

We got him when I was about 16. He was 1 of a litter of labrador pups born just down the road from where we lived. 

Pepper loved water and would stand in front of the garden hose every time we watered the plants. He had a pretty good vocabulary and could pick out objects like stick, newspaper, bowl and different toys. Every morning, he would fetch the newspaper from the gate for my father. He was excellent at finding things and people, and hide and seek was his favourite game. 

I left for uni when Pepper was about 4. I think he must have been quite lonely. My parents and nanny were old and wouldn't have played with him as much as I did. 

Pepper's downfall was food. We weren't good at controlling his diet, he got fat and his legs started to give way. Although my parents then put him on a diet, I guess it was too late.

"Are you sure it isn't dinner time yet?"

I'd already started working [in another city] when I heard that Pepper's paws had started to rot from the effort of supporting his weight. [I wonder if that's true, as it sounds quite odd to me now.] It got to a point where he had to be carried about. It was just too much for the old folk to handle, so Pepper was put to sleep.

He must have been about 8 or 9. Young still.

This little one is Caliph. 

He was the 1st dog Cushion and I had as a couple, and the 1st and last dog we'll ever get from a breeder. He had a piece of paper, champion parents, and a fancy long name but I no longer remember what it was.

Though he looks like a sweetie here, Caliph was aggressive and would try to bite us if we approached him at feeding time. It was a bit shocking to see a snarling, snapping 3 month old puppy. But we loved him and did the best we could to make him happy.

Caliph died when he was only 8 months old from parvovirus, despite being up to date with his shots. I remember his last 24 hours very well because I was with him as he purged from both ends and had blood transfusions with blood from the vet's own dog. I'll never forget the smell. 

I was supposed to go for my driving test that day and never made it. I still don't have a driver's licence. [I'm sure Cushion will say that's no excuse.]

Of course, you've met Farouk and Jehan.

And Jordan and Rufus.

Despite having thousands of photos of Georgia, we don't have a single one we can hold in our hands.

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Here are a few other favourite photos I'd like to share which have nothing to do with dogs.

I'll be keeping these too.

Malaysia.

These were taken in Chinatown in Kuala Lumpur.

I love chestnuts and look forward to them every winter. I roast mine in the oven. I wish they tasted like the roasted chestnuts in the picture below! 

I'm not sure what the man is roasting them in but I think it may be coffee beans. That's what it smells like. The chestnuts have that flavour in them and are divine.

India.

These were taken in Rajasthan.

I love this sign! I think it's for a dentist.

This man was cycling to pump petrol for his van. How cool is that?

I like taking photos of people when I travel, much more than landmarks. Although I don't know any of the people who were photographed here, I wonder where they are now and if their lives have changed.

Nepal.

These were taken in Kathmandu and Pakora.

I like photographing animals too. 

Even dead ones.

Looking through my photos over the last week has made me realise what a lucky girl I am.

In a small plane over the Himalayas.

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Once again, thank you for keeping me company this week! My question for today -

What are some of the photos that would describe your life? If you have a blog, maybe you could post and share them. I'd love, love, LOVE to see them :) X