The Post Man

When I was a wee kipper our beloved pooch "Patchy" bit the postman! Well postmen really as it happened on a few occasions. She was a wonderful watch dog but run like the wind if you rode a motorbike....bicycle...carried a briefcase or low slung bag...carried a black umbrella...or if you wore bright colours or dark sunglasses. Mr. Postman ticked a good few of those boxes so didn't stand a chance!

She had a good old fashioned "dogs are not humans" hessian sack-ish bed in the garage and would spend a decent proportion of her days in the cool gnawing at her flea allergy. I know..a flea allergy on a dog...so, so cruel!

Miss Patches had access to the fenced back yard through a little door in the garage but never went out the front...that is with the exception of the time she bit the postmen, and that man in the suit with the briefcase who Mum thought must have been some sort of law man and nearly fell over backwards swooping him inside for a liberal dousing of Mercurochrome and a cup of tea and some slice.

It was usually (ok always!) my fault that these sagas unfolded as I in my absentminded "off with the fairies" childhood state of mind would often leave the side gate open. We would hear her claws scramble across the concrete of the garage, fly under the house and around the side with her bark following her (the speed of light being faster than the speed of sound) and knew some woe would be thrust upon us.

Sadly our effervescent and mildly neurotic dog died of a massive heart attack one early evening and Mum and I cried non stop for two weeks. My brother at that wispy moustache and gangly legged age between child and teen was too "cool" to cry yet when we buried her in the backyard he slumped off to the old cubby house way down the backyard and stayed there all afternoon. Dad wrapped her in a beautiful old blanket he won for playing footy as a young fellow and I still can't think about her without getting misty eyed.

 I'm sure the posties would have had a few choice words to share at her wake!

Lately, Poppet has been playing letter games with such zeal that the paper trail could wallpaper the Great Wall of China. And try to explain to a three year old that stamps are not stickers.

So in order to save a few forests we came up with a little post lady game using an old calico bag (that was too perfect to be true), some fabric scraps, felt and velcro.

While Remy had a marathon sleep, Bijou chose all the fabrics for the envelopes, little letters and stamps and we sewed it all together on the sewing machine using a rather wonky zigzag. She was as proud as punch. And I polished my halo for being so patient ....there were quite a lot of deep breaths I must confess.

It was also really nice to finish a project in one sitting. Something that hasn't happened for a very long time!

I'm joining in with these crafty souls and putting my feet up whilst my babes sleep and embarking on a epic crochet adventure that will make climbing Mt. Everest seem like a meander through daisies....weeeeeeee!