I was going to write good thoughts on darling doggies. The first we met at Butchart Gardens, lovingly pulled in a wagon by his owner. "The most spoiled dog on earth," he told us. The second is Bradford, the pampered pup of artist Ted Harrison, BC artist. Mr. Harrison was an art teacher from England, but in 1967 answered an ad to teach "in the land of the mighty moose, where weaklings need not apply" – the Yukon. He is now retired in Victoria where I had the pleasure of meeting him. The third dog is on my shit list. That would be Gracee, innocently enjoying a picnic at the park. That’s when I liked her a lot. Since then, she has eaten the underwire out of yet another bra and, tonight, discovered a premium leather chew toy. They were on sale but I had owned them for less than six hours. Earlier today I was thinking how, as a puppy, she had only chewed our kitchen cabinets and never a shoe. Until now. Bad dog.
Knitting progress, the modified-to-make-it-larger Landscape Scarf is working:
Life's a Stitch 
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