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Ripplers Reporting In
This is where our Ripplers contribute their stories.....
The wierd, wild and wonderful weather being experienced during January is being felt on both sides of the world, but in entirely different ways...............
Ruth, our 'unyorked' yorkie-yearner sent the above pics. Ruth lives in England Well as this song says, boots go marching up and down again. Not these!
I made a real mess of my order for my Ugg/Emu Boots - had some from Amazon in UK and sent them back, not comfortable. Googled and found a website in NZ which was extremely reasonable, and they even offered to pay any duty charged.
Had an email from them the day after I ordered to say they had been shipped. The Yorkie girls kept winding me up about these boots, so was expecting them to arrive quickly. As the weather here is so dire and it is rare for everything to go on working, I ordered a wind up torch from Amazon, just in case. there was a message on there to say my order had been cancelled. Being old and senile I assumed it was the boots, quite forgetting it was from a different company, Nature's Shop. Total confusion reigned. Thanks to Mary in NZ who sorted it with the company concerned, who could not have been more helpful.
Yesterday the postie left a note to say that there was a parcel waiting and there was £12 duty to pay. I called him from the window to ask him to leave the boots but they were at the sorting office. rang them, and after about 50 options of buttons to press, I am not kidding! got through to the local sorting office who told me they never deliver items where duty is payable in case people do not pay. Assured them I would pay and needed them but could go there as am snowed in and cannot use the car. Promised next day delivery and this morning, even before the alarm went off , there was the postie with MY BOOTS.
they are stunning - really stunning. I am delighted and have left some very positive feedback on the Natures Shop website, I am not alone, they have rave reviews on there. I should say that the lovely Deanna at NS has already sent a refund for the duty!
How much better can it get?
All this, for just a pair of boots, but I love them.
ruth
i am in ingham.and we got flood worst in 35 years.the water nearly come in
With extremely high temperatures being experienced in Australia, koalas
On the subject of OLD DOGS, Liz Edmonds from the famous Hlalala Yorkshire Terriers in the Republic of South Africa, writes.... Find I get very close to my oldies - perhaps it is because they become more dependent, perhaps more affectionate? Or perhaps it is just that one is aware that time is running out. Losing them is so hard.
Before I moved recently from my patch of (lonely) Paradise on top of the Piketberg mountain in the Cape, to a granny flat in my daughter's house near Durban I had wondered if it was fair to move Greta, at 14 currently my oldest girl and not only blind but almost totally deaf as well. I consulted my very kind and caring vet in Cape Town, who reckoned, to my great relief, it was a pity to put her down as she is otherwise in good health, so I brought her. She managed so well in the environment she knew and had her little routes around the garden and house, though occasionally got a bit lost in the garden, and had been several times, with the rest of the gang, to spend week-ends with my younger daughter in her house in Cape Town, where she also coped well, even with the steps; one is told if one has a blind dog not to move the furniture, etc., so how would she manage in a totally new environment where nothing would be where she remembered it - house and garden?
She found the journey very stressful - a full day and a half with an overnight stop - and when we arrived here she was utterly confused, dis-orientated and plain scared - she would sit, either inside the flat or out in the courtyard, as though nailed to the floor, and shiver. She was better when I took her onto the lawn and stood next to her and repeatedly reassured her, but she was not a happy girl and I looked again at euthanasia being the only humane solution. But we gave it another week, in consultation with a vet friend of my daughter's.
Slowly the shivering fits began to decrease and she started to potter around, clearly forming a map in her mind of her new environment. I watch her sometimes as she comes in from the courtyard ready to find a bed and sleep - knows the step up, then the big water bowl, the bedroom door, shut, the TV stand, then round the chair to the line of beds. Sometimes it takes two or three tries to get it right but she always gets there in the end. She has always been a rather aloof girl, very withdrawn with strangers and never particularly demonstrative with me, but these days she is at the door to greet me, along with the others, when I have been out and the tail is wagging and she does her best at a happy dance. She seems to know where I am too and if I am at the computer in my little 'office' she'll be in one of the beds there, or in the sitting room if that's where I am, and at bedtime she finds her bed in the bedroom, and when she gets her little 'love session' before bed she puts her paws round my hands and begs for more - then goes to her bed and goes ballistic scratching it up and rolling around. For an old blind, deaf dog she's as happy as she can be and feeling good, and possibly more demonstratative about it than she's ever been!
Of course there has had to be a lot of TLC from me - but what a response - and what a reward to know that at her age, and with her impediments, she is still able to get some quality of life. She is, by the way, Ch. Hlalala Ginger Flan, litter sister to Ch. Hlalala Brandy Snap, mother of Curtis, whom I sadly lost about a year ago. They were the first daughters of my Swedish dog, Leo - Ch Swe & Ch SA Footprints Memory Maker at Hlalala, and Ch Hlalala Tipsy Tart, my first ever champion! And there's genetics for you - the two sisters were so un-alike they almost looked like different breeds - and, bred to the same dog, the one gave me really lovely offspring, and the other nothing but disasters!! Actually that's not fair - Greta and her babies had, mostly, beautiful conformation but the colour wasn't there - that bright, bright golden tan, totally clear and face falls to the ground, but the blue never good and turned quickly too pale with running tan.
Liz
****
Oh, To Own A Yorkie!
What an amazing group of people you are, you who appear to have met and become friends around the world because of your love for a tiny little ball of puppy. Or two. Or three . . .
Let me tell you a story of how I felt, briefly, an honorary member of this global club – without owning a Yorkshire Terrier at all.
In September, Peter and I were due to fly to Vancouver via Hawaii when your wonderful Jan Clarke, whom I have worked with for five years, suggested we look up a Yorkie friend of hers on Honolulu.
Through my work period with Jan I have gathered something of the intensity of devotion that Yorkie owners give to their dogs. Peter is devoted to his dog, too, but it’s a Bull Mastiff – you might say at the other end of the dog scale (in size only, I know! Every other dog characteristic of Yorkies is at least as good or better than that of other breeds, I know!)
Thus, we were not too sure we would have a lot in common with Hawaiian Terri. But we made contact, anyway.
Well, what can I say except we were overwhelmed by Puna Bell’s hospitality and generosity. We had a marvellous couple of days on Honolulu to begin our holiday because of her. Jan’s insistence that we try the Hula Pie at least once was acted on and we devoured it as we sat overlooking glorious sunny Waikiki Beach.
Puna, I hope you read this public ‘Thank You’ as well as the messages we’ve sent.
I couldn’t have a Yorkie in the same home as our Bull Mastiff BUT I would if I could for the fun of getting to know more of YOU from around the world.
Thanks Jan! Thanks Terri!
Jackie Grant Orange, NSW Update on Micky-Chin Chris is a very OLD friend of mine (LOL), with some pet yorkies. MC's little mother went to God when he was just hours old and anyone who has ever been left with the grief of losing a little companion and then having to raise the orphan/s, knows how devastating an experience it is. Anyway, luckily there was just one baby to worry about - we had two bitches here at the time who had babies, so Chris was directed to bring him over asap. She duly arrived with MC in a black sock. The first girl we put him on accepted him readily but her milk was past being at optimum stage for his requirements. Within hours one of LYn's CC's whelped and he was put on to her. MC had rather large ears hence the Micky part of his name, and the CHin was in honour of his Chinese Crested mum who did a wonderful job raising him. A MICKY-CHIN UPDATE
Hi Jan and all the Oz Yorkie Ripplers,
Yes, I have been seriously remiss in not sending more regular Micky-Chin news. But here goes - a big update.
Micky-Chin celebrated his first birthday back in June. My Mum had knitted him a new BIG sweater but, like the rest of the Bimbimbie Yorkshire Terrorist Brigade, he flatly refused to wear it. The general consensus re warm protective gear around here is 'We're Terrorists - not Pansies!'. OMG can these guys get seriously wet and filthy and cold on an ordinary Oberon Winter's day! But the solution is simple - when the day is done you just race en masse to the main bedroom, leap on the bed and rub off all the cold, wet and dirty on the doona. Not a problem really - except for the poor folk who later want to sleep in said bed.
M-C is now a fully fledged member of the BYTB. He got through his cadetship with flying colours. In fact, with the help of his adored uncle 'Wolfie' he graduated in less than 12 months - in the first week of March to be exact.
M-C and Wolfie really excelled themselves in the last week of February. Here's the story.
All of the BYTB assist with all the horse chores. A lot of running around and barking is involved. The sole female Terrorist, Little One, is a dab hand at swinging off horses' tails to get them to 'move along'. I've had to resort to banging the stallions' tails shorter than normal so she can't catch them.
The high point of the day is the 'Outside Feed Run'. I mix up feeds for various stallions and their companion mares, the permanently on a diet founder brigade and assorted other odds and sods. Feed buckets go into the trailer. Sprock, The Archbishop and Nicholas take up their positions in the car and Wolfie, Ears, Little One and M-C get down on the starting line ready to RUN.
Wolfie is always torn. He just loves travelling in the car. But he also just loves running - and chasing hares. So it's always hard for him to decide whether to run or ride.
Ears, Little One and M-C have no such issues - running is what it's all about. The high point of the feed run is when we get to Minstral's paddock, because living with Minstral and his mare is Lambikins.
Lambikins is just that - a ewe lamb. She arrived in Minstral's paddock this time last year. I thought she came through from one of my next door neighbour's paddocks. She was the same age as all his lambs. I couldn't catch her and I rang George to tell him. He said quite firmly 'It's not one of mine'. 'Oh come on George, of course it's yours. Where else could a single lamb come from?'
George wouldn't back down. 'Look at it's knees and fetlocks', he said. 'They're brown. It's a Suffolk cross and it comes from up the road. Kaye (his wife) saw it walking up the road towards your front gate last week'.
This one I didn't believe. From my front gate to Minstral's paddock is over a kilometre. The only producer of Suffolk X lambs in the general vicinity is nearly 5km from my front gate. This lamb has alone and with determination walked nearly 7km to come live with Minstral and his mare? I don't think so!!
But next morning I had a close look at the lamb's knees and fetlocks and sure enough it was brown wool not dirt. The last thing I needed was a lamb with a tail - at least it was a she, not a he. The Terrorists and I tried on numerous occasions, with an appalling lack of success, to herd Lambikins into a corner and catch her so that I could at least get a ring on her tail. Lambikins quickly got very cunning. She'd see the feed vehicle coming, spot the rampaging Terrorists and run under Minstral's belly. Glory be to God - a 16.2hh Anglo stallion with a lamb seeking shelter between his four large hooves and the BYTB doing their damndest to flush her out! Is there any wonder my hairdresser has noticed signs of grey appearing over the past 12 months?
Right now it's shearing time next door and Lambikins definitely needs serious shearing. She still has her tail. I am going to have to pay George to bring his team of working dogs and his 4WD bike to round up Lambikins, truss her to the bike's carrier tray, take her back to his shearing shed, shear her and then bring her home. I feel a home unit coming on!
Right, let's get back to M-C's cadetship and graduation.
The point of all of the above was simply to set the scene. The 'We run with the car' scene.
Doing the feed run is fine. But what happens when I need to go to town or the Big City?? Just saying 'You guys can't come, please go inside and go to sleep for the day' used to work. And indeed for some of the Brigade it still does. All except M-C and Wolfie sense when I put on my 'Go to the City' clothes and don't try to get in or follow the car. M-C and Wolfie went along with this until one day last February.
Some of you may remember the Equine Influenza debacle we went through from late July last year until late March of this year. I had horses stuck away from the stud throughout this period. Come late January of this year all the various zonings started to change and I was progressively able to start bringing horses home. On Feb 27 I got a permit to go collect a filly who'd been stuck in the Colo Valley since I took her down in June last year - the weekend that M-C was born.
I did not do 'go to City' preparations - no ironing of clothes, no shower, no make-up, no packing of overnight bag. None of the things that signal 'She's going away to work'. I just hitched up the float and headed off.
When I got home late that afternoon I was greeted with the usual mad melee, all clamouring to find out if I'd bought them any 'yummies'. But, after I unloaded and bedded down the filly I realised that the welcome home party was short two members. I did a quick head count and realised M-C and Wolfie weren't with us. I went down to the house - it was a cold afternoon. Maybe they were in bed under the doona and hadn't heard the car arrive.
No, not in the house. I unhitched the float and did the feed run lap. Had they got bored and gone to do the feed run (and harass Lambikins) on their own? I called and called - and seriously started to stress.
Dark came down fast and still I couldn't find them. I left all the stable lights on. I turned every light in the house on and left all doors open (despite it being freezing cold). I lit the lounge room fire. All the things that should have brought little adventurers rushing for the comfort of home and hearth.
I didn't sleep at all that night and at 6.30am the 'Travelling Horseman' arrived for a four day stint of trimming hooves and filing teeth of every horse on the place (40+), halter training and clipping six show/sale horses and showing four of them for me at Bathurst Royal Show on the Sunday. All this and two of my Terrorists are AWOL.
I set Richard up with four horses to shoe and then resumed the search. By this time, I figured that the little monsters had followed me when I'd left the morning before with the float. I rang every one in the surrounding area - there aren't many. No-one had seen them on the road. I asked permission to walk their paddocks searching and calling.
NOTHING!!
I rang the local vet and the Council Pound.
NOTHING!
I went home. Richard had finished shoeing. I rounded up a whole lot of stroppy broodmares, put them in the yards and left Richard to trim feet, check teeth and drench them. I came down to my office and worked up a lost dogs poster. Printed out a 100 or so copies, got out my staple gun and headed out to plaster the notices over every telegraph pole between here and Oberon.
Thursday night was worse than Wednesday - my guys still hadn't come home and no-one had rung saying they had them or had seen them.
Friday and Saturday? Still nothing. I walked the 5.5km from home to the main road searching for little bodies. By that stage I was sure they'd been on the road and been run over. NOTHING.
I did not want to go to Bathurst Show. I was exhausted and grieving for my little guys. But two of the four horses to be shown belong to an NZ client. I had to do it.
On Sunday morning we loaded up and headed for Bathurst. As we drove up the road I said to David 'I'm not going to see my little guys again'. And promptly broke down in a flood of tears.
We did the show. Got the requisite bows (four 1sts, two Champions, one Reserve Champion and one Supreme Champion). Wrote Richard a huge cheque for his work over the past days, waved him goodbye and headed home. When we got home I left David to unload the fillies while I went down to the house to let the 'not lost' Terrorists out of prison.
I walked up the ramp to the back door and saw a tiny piece of paper pinned to the flyscreen mesh. it said (and I quote - the feral apostrophes are NOT mine!!) 'Hi Christine Its Sam from the Oberon Pound. You're 2 little dogs have turned up at the Pound. If you ring Oberon Council after 8.30am tomorrow we can arrange to get your dogs home. Ill leave info on you at Council Office. Thank You Sam. PS Dog's are well.'
I promptly burst into tears again - this time of relief.
Next morning the fun really started. I rang the Council office at 8.35am. No-one knew anything about my delinquent Terrorists. I was told to ring the Pound. I rang the Pound and got a recorded message that told me to ring the Council office. I did. I got told to ring the Pound number and leave a message. I did. No-one rang back. I tried again several times. Same non-response.
Monday went and Tuesday came around. I tried again. Eventually I found Sam. Monday was his day off and Tuesdays he works at the garbage tip. I couldn't collect the guys on Tuesday. Had to be Wednesday. And it had to be from the local vet because the Council's microchip reader wasn't working.
Wolfie was micro-chipped when he was desexed but M-C was not yet desexed or micro-chipped. Not a lot of point in reading any microchips because none of the Terrrorists are Council registered. Little did I know what the ramifications of this were going to be!
Wednesday morning I headed into town and the local vet. Sam the Pound Man was there. 'Do you have their registration papers?' 'No, they're not registered'. 'Well you can't have them until they're registered'.
To cut a long story short I had to go up to the Council office, apply to register the guys, take the papers back to Sam and the vet. The vet then scanned Wolfie and couldn't find his microchip. He had to be re-chipped. Micky-Chin had to be chipped. I then had to take the micro-chip papers back to the Council and pay all the registration and chipping fees and the impounding fines.
Four hours later I was able to take the seriously filthy and matted Terrorists home. Their little 'holiday' had cost me a week of stress and grief and $412.00 to Oberon Council.
I asked Sam how the guys had ended up in the Pound. He said that a lady from Chatham Valley (my valley) had brought them in on Thursday morning. She was really upset about having to take them to the pound but she lived alone and had to go to Sydney for several days and had no-one to look after them. 'And please, if no-one claims don't put them down, I'll give them a home.'
I asked Sam for her details. 'You'll have to get them from the Council office'. Before I took the guys home I went to the office to find out who their rescuer was. 'Can't tell. Privacy laws'.
Oh come on guys. I just want to be able to ring up the lady, take the guys to visit her and take a thank you gift. I'm hardly about to go and letter bomb the person who rescued my Terrorists am I??
No way could I get the details. All I could do was leave my details and ask they be given to her if/when she contacted them to find out about the dogs.
A week later Suzanne rang me. She had come across two very scruffy dirty Terrorists stalking a magpie outside her front gate on Wednesday afternoon. They were matted with sticks in their coats and had no collars or tags so she thought they must be abandoned. They both rushed to talk to her and when she opened her car door Wolfie leapt in and made himself at home. M-C was a bit more circumspect, but she caught him, took them both home and fed them. They ate a hearty meal and then curled up on a lounge chair and went to sleep.
Suzanne's problem was that she had to go to Sydney next day for a week. (I had not rung Suzanne when searching for the guys because I didn't know she existed!! She only lives 4km away from my front gate - and had done so for more than a year - but I didn't know that she'd moved into the valley.) She had left for Sydney, taking the guys (reluctantly) to the Pound before I had started banging up my lost dog posters. By the time she got back from Sydney the following Monday I knew my guys were found had gone around taking down all the posters. Such timing!! She eventually rang the Council to enquire about the guys and was given my details.
Later that week I spruced up all of the Terroriists, told them to be on their best behaviour (on pain of death if they weren't) and went to visit Suzanne to thank her for rescuing the little monsters. She's a lovely lady and was so relieved that I'd found them.
Now that little adventure made me realise I had to be super careful about locking up all the Terrorists before leaving the property for any reason. I've had to develop all manner of stealthy ruses to con M-C into the house or a stable. Wolfie is usually easy: I just open the car door and he leaps in. Then we play chasings around the car for at least 15 minutes before I can catch him and bundle him into the house. M-C is a different story. I have, at times, had to resort to climbing (fully dressed to go to a City meeting) into bed to wait for M-C to come charging in to see what's going on. This has now stopped working. As has making a cup of tea and sitting in the lounge with a book or newspaper. Basically I have to plan ahead, so that David gets up before me, let's everyone out for their morning ablutions and then, when they all come back inside, he carefully closes all doors. I then do all my preparations behind locked doors and when the time comes to leave I have to squeeze out through a door, pushing frantically scrabbling would-be escapees back inside with a foot.
In the early stages I twice gave up trying to capture M-C and Wolfie and drove away while they were loose. They followed me. As we progressed up the valley road, getting closer and closer to the main road, I stopped and tried to catch them. Wolfie leapt into the car but M-C would not be caught. He was still running when we got to the main road. 5.5kms. I had no option but to turn around and go home. I did so at 20km per hour. He arrived home a few minutes after me. Panting but ready for more. If he was an endurance horse he'd be a world beater!
It's very embarrassing to have to ring up a client and say 'I can't come to the meeting because I can't catch my dog'.
The two problem children excelled themselves a couple of Sundays ago. David had been to a university conference on the Gold Coast for a few days. The theory was that on the Sunday he would fly to Sydney, catch a train to Mt Victoria and the bus from Mt V to Oberon. I would drive into Oberon to collect him.
He rang me as the train was leaving Sydney. That gave me 3.5 hours to ensure the Terrorists were all locked up and accounted for. The first five were easy but M-C and Wolfie weren't having a bar of it. Something was going on and it definitely involved the car. When the time came for me to leave for Oberon I still hadn't caught them. Wolfie would not get in the car. I could not drive 20km to Oberon with those two following me.
What to do? I rang the local taxi driver and told her to collect David from the bus stop and to bring him to the beginning of our road. I'd meet her there (as would Wolfie and M-C). Off I drove, with them both in hot pursuit. They did the 11km round trip in record time - 20 minutes. That's 33km/hr. Not a bad speed for two relatively small dogs. The taxi trip cost $45. DCM was not impressed. I just told him to put it on his expenses claim along with all of his other tickets.
M-C and David will be at the Yulefest. I can't come because I will be 'minding' one of the international judges for the National Capital Horse Show in Canbera. Like me, Jacquie would prefer to come to the Yulefest - she has four Spaniels and a corgi of her own and Nicholas adopts her whenever she comes to visit. But, while you're all partying, Jacquie and I will be standing in the boiling sun (or maybe pouring rain) - she judging horses and me stewarding for her.
Right, that's all the news for now. Back out to the vegie patch. M-C, Wolfie and Little One think gardening is almost as much fun as the feed run. They figure if I'm digging so should they: the problem is they keep digging up what I keep planting. There have been some seriously whacked noses over the last couple of days.
Cheers
Chris H
EVER TRIED OBEDIENCE??? Helen Nolan ***
(Helen is the author of a novel entitled "Between the Battles"
It is about the time during the war in Viet Nam when she
went there as a secretary. It is excellent reading. We hope to have copies of the book available at the Yule Fest.) Yorkies are not renowned for their slavish obedience, and that makes them all the more interesting to work with in Dog Training classes. Their independent nature and cheekiness make them great fun, and a challenge, in this field of dog activity.
If you show your dog, then you have been involved in the first part of “obedience”. You have taught your dog to walk a certain way, on a leash, on your left side; to stop when you stop; to stand for examination; to allow its teeth to be examined and its body to be felt all over.
I see obedience trialling as an exciting and fun-filled extension of showing. It is still conducted under the auspices of the Royal NSW Canine Council (DOGs), and to its Rules, which have been adopted by all States in Australia. The Introduction to the Rules, clause 1, says:
The idea of Obedience Trials is to demonstrate the usefulness
of the dog as the companion and guardian of man and not the
ability of the dog to acquire facility in the performance of mere
tricks. The classification which has been adopted is progressive
with the thought in mind that a dog which has been granted the
title of OBEDIENCE CHAMPION has demonstrated its fitness
for a place in our modern scheme of living.
Just as your dog gains points towards its show championship, and upon attaining them, is entitled to the prefix Australian Champion, in trialling the dog enters competitions to gain points towards a suffix.
These are, in order:
CCD Community Companion Dog
CD Companion Dog
CDX Companion Dog Excellent
UD Utility Dog
UDX Utility Dog Excellent
O.CH. Obedience Champion
Up to UDX the dog has to qualify three times in its class of competition. To become an Obedience Champion, it has to qualify (after gaining its UD title), a further five times in Utility classes under three different judges.
And of course, the exercises become more difficult as the dog progresses up the classes.
Unlike showing, where you have an Australian Champion or even a Grand Champion and continue to show them against untitled and younger dogs, in obedience, once your dog has gained a title, it cannot go back and compete against dogs trying for that level of title. In this way, it is more equitable to the dog and owner, in my opinion.
The other great thing about trialling is that dog training classes, whilst run under the Rules, allow cross-breeds and neuters to join in – and even to gain titles under the Associate Register of DOGs. The owner of the dog must be a member of DOGs, but the dog, depending on its breeding and gender status, can be registered on the full, limited or associate registers.
I have found that training in this way, with many other types and sizes of dogs, gives my Rosie a different perspective on life, and brings me closer to her true nature. And we also get a good belly laugh every week at something, such as a huge Labrador pup, deciding to give up and lie down in the middle of an exercise, and having to be carried off. Classes seem to bring out the comical and funny side of the dog.
And in the break, we all get together for a chat and tea. Someone always bakes a cake. And as a club we participate in things such as (in the Blue Mountains) the Blackheath Rhododendron Festival parade, the RSPCA days, taking the dogs into nursing homes to visit patients, and other publicity gaining events.
So, if you want to widen your circle of dog-loving friends, try new horizons, help publicise the Yorkie, eat cake, and even enter something competitive other than showing, try obedience. There’s a Dog Training Club near you!
Your yorkie is a great ambassador for the breed!!!
(above) Georgia from Queensland and Yetholme FreeWill ChaCha, going ................................................. Alanna writes..
Nothing to do with Yorkies but......
I would like to share a photo that was taken today (15th Oct). I had the most amazing experience this morning. I got to cuddle and play with a white desert Dingo, "Jingelle" or "Dee" for short. Not something that I ever thought in my wildest dreams I would ever say. For those that don't know, Dingos in Australia are not domesticated and cannot be owned by your "average" person. You usually only see them in the zoo.
Luci is the "Native dog society president" and heavily involved in an dingo sanctuary that is currently being renovated in Bargo, south of Sydney, apparently the 5 Dingos that are currently at her boarding kennels are to be rehomed in the newly renovated sanctuary. They are with Luci because the old location has already closed down.
Will definately have to go and visit the sanctuary when it's complete...
OzYorkieRipples Yetholme, NSW, Australia Email : yorkies@yetholmeyorkies.com |
