Lit by the ethereal glow of a half dozen night lights (to avoid tripping over dogs) our house is well lit during the night. The Bassets, except for Llewis, are crated, but the black dog, who is impossible to see at night no matter how many night lights we have, camps anywhere. Llewis, with his white tail tip, is spottable.
When I was the kennel manager at the Clinic, I would put signs up days in advance, hoping my Sunday Morning team would actually remember to change their clocks and come to work on time. Sundays were crucial because we had so little time in which to get everything done. Supposedly we did not open until 10 but we never turned anyone away and so if there was a Vet there and someone pounded on the door, we opened. (If there was no Vet and it was an emergency we opened and called the Vet in, meanwhile taking instructions over the phone.) We closed at Noon, which meant all dogs and cats had to be fed, cleaned, exercised, cleaned, watered and clean by noon. By the time I retired, there was room for 220 animals to board, in runs or regular built-in kennels. I was no longer Kennel Manager and very happy that I wasn't.
They still open at ten (ha hah) (More like 9) and close at noon (more like 1pm)
I do not miss Sundays in the kennel.
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Today on the way to visit the taxman, I was in a line of cars that stopped for several deer that burst out of the bushes by the highway and danced across the road, followed by the relentless predator that had sent them fleeing for their lives--- someone's Beagle.
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