Sabrina the Wunderdog.

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I've never met an animal I didn't like - Andy Warhol.

The past few days the Colonel and I have been dog sitting a lovely black lab, Sabrina the Wunderdog. The owners were called away suddenly to a funeral in Atlanta.

Sabrina had spent some time at a kennel recently and it was not a happy event. She didn't eat and almost ran over her owner in her desperation to get out of the canine stalag. Taking her back was a sorry option. I am really happy we could help out with her accomodations. She was spoiled rotten at Palazzo Chichi, such as a dignified lady of ripe old age deserves.
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Apart from being the most gorgeous and loveable dog, Sabrina is a certified cat hater. My poor cats have been terrorised and traumatised to the edge of reason. The seemingly docile animal turns into a vicious beast upon hearing the pitty patter of dainty, or not so dainty kitty feet. I had to throw myself around Sabrina's neck to save my beloved Runty from being pounced upon and turned into a feline appetizer.

Romeo is quite the pork chop express, to add to his misfortunes, he is a ginger. Life has been tough for the poor little tacker. Him ever having the speed to run past and squeeze his rotund butt through the kitty door in less time than it takes a hunting dog to swallow him whole, is doubtful. It was only by Sabrina's good graces that he was able to squeeze his portly ginger self out before she took a chomp.

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Runty, Tiger, (Runty's mum) and Romeo. All clearly built for comfort, not speed.

In this humid, disgusting Florida heat I have been constantly traipsing the neighbourhood with Sabrina, keeping her busy and not too bored. It sounds like I want a medal for walking a dog, but all things considered, that is not such a preposterous idea. I must add that I have loved being out walking a dog again, I find it so agreeable to have a canine companion.

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Apart from the obvious weather issues, there are few footpaths here which make walking one's dog a less than simple task. Tampa is a city, it's not the middle of the country, it's built up and yet there are mostly no pavements. I have to walk on the road, ever vigilant for cars and the carcass's of flattened cane toads. It's too hot to wear runners so I wear my faithful birkenstocks and they do little to keep wet parts of squashed toad from seeping between one's toes!

When cars do approach I have to walk up onto the grass and avoid the cane toads, get my feet wet, receive multiple mozzie bites as this place is swarming with them and so on. Surely my long suffering reader, you get the picture.

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I spent a year living in Werribee. Yes I hear you gasp, the S*&t farm town, bogan epicentre of the known universe, and guess what? There were footpaths everywhere. Will some one please explain to a bewildered Countess why there is a lack of cement for those of us who would like to 'pound the pavement'? Why those ferals in Werribee, too drunk to walk in a straight line, need perfect pavement when decent folk from respectable families must walk all over the front lawns of others just to give the dog's legs a stretch, is beyond me.

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We don't even have many, if any drains here, which may be good as I have been warned to keep the dog away from them. Why? I so innocently asked, 'Because Aligators come up from them and get the dogs'. Charming! Just another quaint little detail about my adopted land that makes me quiver with joy at my decision to move here.

While there are no drains, there are ditches. They run along next to the houses, fill up with water which may contain the odd aligator, but mostly serve as breeding grounds for mozzies. I believe that the mosquito is the state bird of Florida, or it should be. They are everywhere and I can't walk outside these days without getting covered in nasty, itchy bites. I hate it.

Ditch, such as the one running alongside my house, A perfect mosquito breeding place.

The first night Miss Brina was here I made up the spare bed and slept with her so she wouldn't be too disturbed and lonely away from her family. Last night I couldn't face the idea of getting back into the now dog fur infested sheets, so I turned the radio on to keep her company and gave her loads of cat toys to play with, or to use to pick up the scents she could hunt them down with the next day. She behaved with such ladylike aplomb, nary a whimper from her all night. Sabrina is a true Southern Belle.

Today there seems to be some kind of uneasy truce between dog and cats, so the Countess can cut back on the valium! A couple of times today small furry figures darted past. I thought a bloodbath would ensue only to see her staring but not even growling. What a champ.


Sabrina goes home tomorrow and I will miss her and her soft as velvet, midnight black fur. My cat's however will be really very happy to see the back of her tail.

Sabrina's diet while visiting consisted of a small portion of her own food, larger portion of cat food eaten surreptiously, Arby's popcorn chicken and a little bit of salami. She is on a diet but visiting here was kind of like being at a resort and no one loses weight while on holiday, well unless they get malaria, or the dengue or something like that.

Goodbye Sabrina, I will miss you.


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