Sunday, 8 August 2010

Lots and lots of dogs!!!

Neil and I went to the Norfolk Dog Day at Stennowe Hall near Guist today, it was all done to raise money for Help for Heroes.  We didn't take Lucy as I wasn't sure what it would be like and she gets bored rather easily if she can't run around!   There were so many dogs it was unbelievable, could have taken so many home!!  There were lots of competitions and dog displays to watch.  We watched one by the RAF Dog Team which was great.  They had one of their labs on sniffing out drugs in suitcases, then they got the Springer out to sniff drugs in a car and then the alsation to chase down a criminal!!  There were also a few  celebs there doing some judging and Dad managed to get Andy McNabs autograph and I got his photo! (Andy McNab is the former SAS Soldier and now author).  I also got a photo of the poet Pam Ayres, she was queuing up for the ladies toilet so I was abit cheeky and asked her if I could take her photo which she was more than pleased to do.   People my age will remember Pam Ayres poems - this one is one of my faves:


At the Cotswold Wild Life Park,
In the merry month of May,
I paid the man the money,
And went in to spend the day,
Straightway to the Pets Corner,
I turned my eager feet,
To go and see the rabbits,
And give them something to eat.

As I approached the hutches,
I was alarmed to see,
A crowd of little yobbos,
'Ollerin' with glee,
I crept up close behind them
And weighed the scene up quick,
And saw them poke the rabbits
Poke them! . . with a stick!

'Get off you little buggers!"
I shouted in their ear,
'Don't you poke them rabbits,
That's not why they are here."
I must have really scared them,
In seconds they were gone,
And feelin' I had done some good,
I carried on along.

Till up beside the Parrots Cage,
I stood to view the scene,
They was lovely parrots,
Beautiful blue and green,
In and out the nestbox,
They was really having fun,
Squawking out and flying about,
All except for one.

One poor old puffed-up parrot,
Clung grimly to his perch,
And as the wind blew frontwards,
Backwards he would lurch,
One foot up in his feathers,
Abandoned by the rest,
He sat there, plainly dying,
His head upon his chest.

Well, I walked on down the pathway
And I stroked a nanny goat,
But the thought of parrots dyin'
Brought a lump into me throat,
I could no longer stand it,
And to the office I fled,
Politely I began: 'Scuse me,
Your parrot's nearly dead."

So me and a curator,
In urgent leaps and bounds,
With a bottle of Parrot Cure,
Dashed across the grounds,
The dust flew up around us,
As we reached the Parrots Pen,
And the curator he turned to me
Saying 'Which one is it then?"

You know what I am going to say,
He was not there at all,
At least, not where I left him,
No, he flit from wall to wall,
As brightly as a button,
Did he squawk and jump and leap,
The curator was very kind,
Saying, "I expect he was asleep."

But I was humiliated,
As I stood before the wire,
The curator went back,
To put his feet up by the fire,
So I let the parrot settle,
And after a short search,
I found the stick the yobbos had,
And poked him off his perch.

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