Dog’s Breakfast

British slang dating to about the 1930’s, meant to convey an unholy mess of dribs and drabs, a hodgepodge. Although
origin is uncertain, it seems likely to have dated from the morning someone, possibly slightly hungover, dumped last night’s
fried rice and then their breakfast of left-over scrambled eggs into the dog’s bowl, uttered those fateful words, and then
headed back to bed, their place in history now secure.

See where this is headed? Yes, it’s that kind of post, dribs and drabs. But there will be a dog making an appearance, a
rather in-need-of-a-bath dog, who in keeping with our theme has actually eaten the cats’ breakfast. Here he’s taking a deep
sniff of some basil Pesto Perpetuo, possibly as a chaser to the bland kitty pate.

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After that deep draught of basil, he will elegantly back up out of that tight spot without knocking over a watering can,
and then immediately scan the garden for the whereabouts of Joseph, the alpha male cat, his nemesis, seen here making
ready for ambush.

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My garden is the perfect size for corgis and cats, and it’s always satisfying to watch them meander down its paths.
Garden paths are ideally able to accommodate two people walking abreast or one person pushing a wheelbarrow.
In my garden, a person and one corgi can comfortably navigate some paths. Other paths are for solitary use
only.

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Every morning we fan out into the garden, each in pursuit of something unknown to the other. Our paths criss-cross
as we respectively track color and spoor. For me, it was the cobalt blue of Salvia cacaliifolia. What did they find, I wonder.

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