Not Susie

Carl and I have a celebration coming up and have organised a booze-up for Friday. This afternoon I met our cake maker. She's doing us a luscious chocolate confection with chocolate-butter-cream and chocolate mousse icing. She made up a small sample for me to try (I approved).

While there I met the two dogs, three cats and several hens who share the place with baker and partner. The hens provide free-range eggs which go into the cakes, the cats (which had just been fed) barely opened an eye to acknowledge my arrival, and the dogs barked the place down even before I reached the door, presented me with two sticks for throwing (which I rejected on advice from Trish the Baker because she said told me my arm would be worn out) and generally accepted me into their fold. The black Labrador is called Susie, and I regret to say that I don't remember the name of the absolutely gorgeous, adorable and loveable dalmatian. Whatever her name is, she's a show stealer and is most definitely daddy's girl.