Cynophilist. After Fifty-Four Years, I’m A Cynophilist

Look, it’s Sunday night and I have about an hour to spin some words before I head into the fuzzy zone. After fifty four years, I’m a cynophilist was the best I could do.

Until the day before yesterday I had no idea what the word meant. In fact I had never heard of it.

Considering what it is and the fact that I am one, that’s pretty impressive. I wonder what the plural is?

Furthermore, one mustn’t exclude my wife from the conundrum as she is one as well. Maybe we are cynophiles. I’d better check that one just in case it carries a totally different meaning.

After Fifty-Four Years, I'm A Cynophilist.

What’s A Cynophilist?

There’s the clue. According to the sidebar that popped up the other day when I was researching something unrelated, which I now cannot remember, a cynophile is a dog lover, simple as.

So, now you know. Right, give me a few minutes to read through. I started this post on Sunday and it’s now Thursday night, my bad.

It’s been one of those weeks, not one to forget, far from it but certainly one that will remain prominent in my mind for a while yet.

Here’s the thing. Just a brief synopsis. STOP PRESS!!!!

Happy New Year

Change of plan. Having entered Jules Verne’s world of time travel, we’re now post pandemic. Happy New year everyone, it’s 2022.

Sorry about that, I just stopped writing and have no idea why, maybe my muse left me to my own devices just to prove a point. Well done sir/madam (I am an equal opportunity employer)

Anyway, I’m back after my ‘however many months’ sabbatical and I have my wife of twenty-four years and ten months standing to thank for that.

Where To From Here?

Cynophilist or not, it’s time for a change. I think I’m going to try a different background colour for all future posts, you know, brighten the place up a bit. To heighten the reading experience, we could do with a tad more flamboyance.

I’m thinking…I’ll get back to you on that one. So, why now? Well, over the past few weeks I’ve started to get the itch to write again but just didn’t know where to put my quill and ink pot down.

Pat Nearly left.

That’s right, in the meantime, Pat nearly left. I have a number of websites, all in various states of disrepair. Over the last few months I have had one reminder after another telling me that my domains are about to expire.

So, in the spirit of Mary Kondo, I kept only those that spoke to my heart and discarded any that no longer sparked joy.

Letting some of them go has been kind of liberating, in the same way as when you have a full on clear out. Then I had a moment, just a moment. Had I let Pat’s Blog go?

Rather than going back through my deleted emails I typed the domain into my browser. Computer said no. It was gone.

Bjorn Again

Abba tribute bands notwithstanding, Pat’s Blog was born again, not without further monetary investment though.

It was past the ‘grace’ period, resting peacefully in ‘redemption’ (who comes up with these names?) Still, I have to take it as a win because before I went through the process of reclaiming the domain, thinking all was lost, I searched for it with a view to purchasing it back.

It was available, if I was prepared to shell out just under a grand. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the name but we would have gone our separate ways at that price. Luck was on my side for once. Reinstating proved to be economically viable, by a country mile.

So Where Do You Go To My Lovely

Ah yes, thank you Peter Sarstedt, for the reminder. Want to look inside my head? You’re very kind but alas, it’s not recommended, even I don’t go in there unless it’s absolutely necessary.

That said, laying out the format for the coming months would be prudent.

I will but it deserves a post of its own. For now, let’s just say that I will be posting more often and with a slightly different intent.

Bewildered? Checkout the ‘HOME’ page.

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