Big dog, little dog

Lady with the Big Dog (also with little dog) has moved in. Plus dogs. She has gone off for a furious day's work at airport where all hell will be let loose today as Christmas revellers arrrive. (Poor them.) Granny's dog-yard can't contain her dogs - a merry cross country chase followed discovery of this - Granny haring after fleeing canines, still in (fairly) well done-up dressing-gown and not much else, an interesting sight to her neighbours, no doubt. A very cross Mr Handsome, who is cross most of the time anyway these days, is now constructing another dog-yard on the land. (Whoopee. At last, what will be in due course Granny's chicken-run. It's taken a crisis to achieve this.) Meantime still-dressing-gowned Granny is trapped in the kitchen with Lady w BD's grieving pair. Writing this. Confronting more Christmas email, and the lurking chestnuts. The sky is grey, rain threatened. Beloved's Beloved Daughter arrives today. Faint whines from behind her. Never mind.