This picture is not a fake. It appears that in Northumberland, not far from the little town of Bedlington, a farmer has successfully crossed a giant poodle with a sheep. The resulting offspring is to be known as a "shoodle". Apparently it doesn't bark like a dog or baa like a sheep - instead it makes a mixture of sounds - Wuffbaa! Wuffbaa! etc.. Its preferred diet is veggieburgers - satisfying its confused dual appetite for both meat and vegetable matter. This particular "shoodle" has been christened Charlton after the footballing brothers Bobby and Jackie who also hailed from Northumberland I believe.
POST FROM 18 MARCH 2007. Accidentally deleted when making a "Restrospective" post on 18 MARCH 2017
Waiting
Sunday afternoon – waiting for Shirley to come home from her trip out to Lincolnshire to see her mother on Mothering Sunday. Saturday night – waiting for the lottery results to tell me I’m free, waiting for a pint of ale at The St Patrick’s Night Party. What party? And why did Guinness boast that they’d produced three million green badges specially - along with one million of those dumb felt Guinness hats. Would St Patrick have admired such pointless waste of Mother Earth’s resources.? If put side by side in a line - those badges would reach from our house seventy five miles – right out into the North Sea.
Waiting for the years to pass. Counting the years on your mortgage, the years to retirement. Waiting for the weeks to pass – till the next holiday, the next birthday, the next anniversary. Waiting.
At the football waiting for the bus to come, waiting for the players to come out and at half time , waiting for them to return and waiting for the goal that sometimes never comes. Waiting for a season when we shine. Waiting.
Lying in bed listening to the wind, thoughts swirling in your head as you wait for sleep to come. And at work waiting for the clock to tick on to lunchtime or to the end of the day. Waiting for Easter. Waiting for Christmas. Waiting for a parking place. And we have sayings – Guinness again – “Good things come to those who wait”, “Wait a minute”, “Wait a little bit longer”, “Waiting for Godot”. And we have waiters and waitresses, people who wait on us.
But the best of life is when we are not waiting but doing. Living the moment, happy in the here and now, not wishing our lives away and waiting for something else, something beyond this moment. I’m a waiter and that’s my tip of the day.
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Waiting
Sunday afternoon – waiting for Shirley to come home from her trip out to Lincolnshire to see her mother on Mothering Sunday. Saturday night – waiting for the lottery results to tell me I’m free, waiting for a pint of ale at The St Patrick’s Night Party. What party? And why did Guinness boast that they’d produced three million green badges specially - along with one million of those dumb felt Guinness hats. Would St Patrick have admired such pointless waste of Mother Earth’s resources.? If put side by side in a line - those badges would reach from our house seventy five miles – right out into the North Sea.Waiting for the years to pass. Counting the years on your mortgage, the years to retirement. Waiting for the weeks to pass – till the next holiday, the next birthday, the next anniversary. Waiting.
At the football waiting for the bus to come, waiting for the players to come out and at half time , waiting for them to return and waiting for the goal that sometimes never comes. Waiting for a season when we shine. Waiting.
Lying in bed listening to the wind, thoughts swirling in your head as you wait for sleep to come. And at work waiting for the clock to tick on to lunchtime or to the end of the day. Waiting for Easter. Waiting for Christmas. Waiting for a parking place. And we have sayings – Guinness again – “Good things come to those who wait”, “Wait a minute”, “Wait a little bit longer”, “Waiting for Godot”. And we have waiters and waitresses, people who wait on us.
But the best of life is when we are not waiting but doing. Living the moment, happy in the here and now, not wishing our lives away and waiting for something else, something beyond this moment. I’m a waiter and that’s my tip of the day.
Well, as the Animal Rights Group in Germany would say:
ReplyDelete"Shoot the fucker - it's not natural!"
I am not sure about this one!
ReplyDeletehang on just a cotton picking minute here.... I thought a shoodle was shih tzu and poodle??
ReplyDeletePersonally I prefer the labradoodle!! Even the noodle-doodle!!
FoX
And I thought the only strange looking dogs in Bedlington were Bedlington Terriers
ReplyDeleteBedlington Terrier! I have never seen one of those in the flesh. They don't look too attractive on paper.
ReplyDeleteI knew someone who had two of those, they were lovely but very lively. They were bred as hunting and fighting dogs originally, fast and furious.
ReplyDeleteToo early! It's not April 1st yet!
ReplyDeletePositively terrifying. Just imagine seeing one of those peering up over the edge of the bed at you in the middle of the night with its gleaming eyes, making you glad that you know for a fact that all it wants is your veggieburgers. That is a fact, right? Right??
ReplyDeleteshouldn't it be wearing a blue cagoule like these little chaps
ReplyDeleteO.k nice try This is a canine it is called a bedlington terrier. It is groomed to look like your so called sheep. Check in any dog breed bog!
ReplyDeleteBedlington Terriers are a cross of whipet and dandy dinmont terrier with NO poodle.
ReplyDelete