There goes the neighbourhood

I recently repainted my room so I was sleeping in the spare room and using the other bathroom. On day two I happened to go into my bathroom to get something and discovered that a spider, perhaps the winner of the arachnid version of the Darwin Award, had built a web across the loo.

I know it probably thought to itself, 'Hey, check this out! Quiet, great view of the basin, private pool, super easy to work on - love the colour... it's gonna be easy pickings.'

But can you imagine the size of all eight of that spider's eyes if I had wandered through half asleep in the middle of the night and it looked up. 

Talk about getting more than you bargained. Way more.

Walkies!

I'm the proud grandmother (read mother) of a Pekinese/Daschund-cross called Pebbles. And, because I'm an indulgent granny, she goes for a walk every day (sometimes twice), which has many benefits - I get loads of fresh air, meet a lot of other walkers and, of course, know all the popular pee spots.

Barbara Woodhouse would definitely not approve of my dog obedience training skills but would, however, be very impressed at how well Pebbles has me trained. Despite her small stature, she has learned how to anchor herself to the ground in order to make me stop so that she can get a whiff of the day's pee du jour. She also knows how to leopard crawl - a tactic she uses when she wants to go to the dam for a dip. She's also schizophrenic. Off the leash, and I'm talking Pebbles here, it's all sweetness and light. However, clip on the leash and she turns into a maniac with all the strength of a pitbull and the sense of teenager on hormones - but I digress.

Far from being aimless, my wanderings have lead to certain interesting scientific discoveries. While my paper submitted to the Journal of Canine Perambulations hasn't been published yet, I can share with you (with pride) that I have classified a few distinct variety of dog walker. 

Let's start with the Friendlies. They greet you, discuss the weather, point out an interesting bird, say rude things about the body corporate and nice things about your dog ("She's so cute, I'm sure she didn't mean to draw blood!").

Then we have the Greeters. This group isn't that interested in whether you think it's hot for this time of year, or that it's early for the swallows to be back but they will greet you with a cheery "Hello!" or "Morning!". 

Moving down the list we have the Nodders. This bunch are generally in exercise mode and cannot allow mere conversation to distract them from reaching their daily step count. As they stride purposefully up to you, sweat glistening awkwardly on their upper lip, they hope that their intent is enough to move you off the path so they can reach their target and go home for a croissant. Not entirely rude, you'll get an acknowledgement of your lowly existence with a brief nod and perhaps even a smile. Their dogs have been trained not to sniff at anything and cannot, therefore, be trusted.

Then we have the Grunters. These people always seem so angry that I often wonder whether they wouldn't be happier in a dungeon punching a wall rather than taking a walk.Or maybe they're masochists ("I told you not to enjoy that cup of tea, now you must walk. Outside. Where you may see people who will smile and try and engage you in conversation. And take the dog.") Whatever the case, your smile or greeting is met by a terse 'grunh' as they step hurriedly past you in case your friendliness is contagious. 

At the bottom of the dog-walking gene pool are the Avoiders. These people behave as though they saw your picture on the CIA's Most Wanted List and you can literally see them plotting how to protect themselves should you suddenly attack them with the leash. As you get closer they actually step off the path and give you such a wide berth you'd swear the 'Unclean' sign was still around your neck.