You Can't Teach An Old Dog New Tricks...

This yearis a special wedding anniversary. Special enough that, at the time of tying the knot, Mr V promised hewould buy me an eternity ring.  Now likeall my sisters of the fairer sex, I'm not averse to the odd sparkler.  Especially a sparkler that has all sorts ofofficial papers declaring quality, clarity, weight, hefty price tag and then –upon the sun shining at a certain angle – frazzling your eyeballs with all thatvast sparkly diamond light.

However,there is a recession going on.  Thingsare tight.  Money is required not so muchfor diamond rings but astronomical bills. So I've suggested foregoing the eternity ring and Mr V agreeing to mehaving a second pooch instead.
As it hastaken umpteen years to finally drum training into our senior beagle's head, MrV is naturally not keen to go through it all over again. It's a bit like havingkids. Just when you've toilet trained them, taught them not to scratch theirarmpits, to cease snarling at you, stop lolling around on beds that don'tbelong to them and endlessly chastise them for eating you out of house and home...theygo and leave you.
We aredown to one teenager left in the nest and an ancient pooch. Every now and againwe think about downsizing too. Mr V is keen for us to move into a smartapartment and for me to swap country dog walks for running on a treadmill in aposh gym. Having worked out in the gym whilst skiing (thanks to extreme weatherand not being able to ski that much) I can honestly say that I was bored sillyrunning on a treadmill after just ten minutes. I've also been idly looking atproperties by the sea.  I have romanticvisions of walking a dog along a picturesque coastline, watching the sea poundingthe shoreline through changing seasons and holing up in a gorgeous attic room thatoverlooks the ocean whilst writing.
Meanwhileback to reality.  I shall take myself offto the supermarket for the Sunday shop. And continue to hound (no pun intended) Mr V over a second pooch...