Rescued From Our Own Filth

Ian's friend Brian came round in the morning and said cheerfully "Pack up! You're moving." Turns out he has a converted donger at his work yard which is set up like a little motel unit; we're giving the place a tidyup as rent, and staying until my house settlement goes through. I told Ian that if he was looking for me for the next few days he could find me in the shower. It's so dry here your skin just craves moisture.

So we're happily moved in, doing load after load of washing & putting the air compressor through the vehicles to get all the dust out. The dogs & Smokey are wildly happy and we have TV! But I am now banned from watching any news about the Queen because of all the shouting.

Atlas is a big soppy thing, we love him. He and Honey are starting to get along and he's fine with Smokey, who has finally realised that Atlas is just a dog & therefore not worthy of attention. I think he's quite an old dog, and you can tell he's just been left alone a lot. He can't believe he's allowed inside or that he has his own bed to sleep on. I've been taking him & Honey for long walks down by the creek; when he saw the leash the first time, he looked so sad - he thought it meant he was going to be tied up & left on his own again. When he realised we were going for a WALK he was beside himself, and got all frisky in the park.

Because he's such a big moose, he's been treated like an object, something to be left in the yard as security, and all he really wants is company, affection and a chance to get out & look around. Now he follows us around everywhere, stuffing his big moose nose into our faces to give us a big lick ("yep thanks mate"), his silly tail thumping into the furniture & knocking things off tables. I just hope we can catch enough small local children to feed him each day.

"Oh look, they've kindly provided me with a small snack"