Streaming or Screaming?

At this time of year, Dad is glued to Springwatch on BBC2; lots of footage of birds rearing babies in their nests, foxes, badgers, otters, the Island of Islay etc etc. The Beeb also lay on a service where they run webcams on various nests and you can stream the action live, 24/7 into your PC. So Mum decided to have a click around and see what was on offer.

She's been studying, so Haggis and I were crashed out on the put-me-up bed. Mum found a Jackdaw nest, where all was quiet, as 3 replete, sated baby Jackdaws were sleeping silently. Thinking there was something wrong with the sound track, Mum tweaked up the volume. Just then Mum-Jackdaw came back and the chicks awoke and started such a catawauling crescendo of raucous noise, H and I were up, leppin' off the bed and charging down the stairs a-woofing and carrying on, with Mum yelling "Oy! Silly dogs!, It's only me and the PC! It's on here!".

Tonight had us glued to the TV downstairs,as a bit of footage of foxes, making that all-too-familiar noise that usually has us going tearing down the garden , this time has us racing round the living room to find where the foxes are hiding. Today's pics show me glued to Bill Oddie and Kate Humble, with the second pic showing a fox in a garden. In this case it's about to be whacked by a tawny owl on it's rump.

Entertainment.

Deefs

Aerobatics

We are looking out of the spare bedroom this morning while Dad's dressing for work, and the Sparrowhawk decides to put on a superb display of aerial manouvring. Starting at the fence down to our left, by the neighbour's pyracantha, she shoots across the garden, then turns hard left and down following the steps line, under the jasmine arbour. She pulls up hard in front of the Paulownia tree, then curves hard left again back into a dive, under the wooden arch with the yellow rose on it, back up the steps line and banks hard right back onto the fence.

It's fantastic to watch - I knew the hawk family were known for their manouvrability, jinking between the trees in dense woodland - all be it she doesn't catch anything this time. Then she sees us looking and is gone - across the garden and the Angel Betty's garden and out of sight. Wish I could fly like that! I'd be able to get those pesky squirrels for sure!

After the Bank Holiday (of course), the sun comes out. Dad's relieved, as he's in the 2CV today (driving 2CV's in the rain = wet knees.). We get a gently walk through the allotments where the rain has swelled the broad beans, so Dad stops to pick a huge carrier bag full, including some for the "Mulchman" (another blogger). While this happens I'm on a "restraining order" (Asbo would be proud of me!), due to my keen-ness fopr trampling through everyone's seed beds (allegedly). For restraining order read "lead tied to a fence post while Dad picks beans"

Have a good 'un

ps I wonder if Ellie has had her trip to the poodle-parlour yet? Oh and rumour tells of Archie being shouted at for being full length down a muddy hole he'd dug in the border on a wet day - only his tail visible. Responding to the shout he ran back indoors and then, thinking he was going to be told off he avoided Old-Dad by running in playful circles round the living room table, scattering half the garden across the carpet. Bet he was popular!

Deefs

Stormy Reculver

We 2CV it (rather bravely, I thought!) to Reculver, where-at the waves are smashing white spray in across the car park, and the wind is blowing beigey coloured foam up the beach, to build up in the lee of shingle banks till gusts whip it up over the top of the sea wall, and the dog-walkers, like a blizzard. I know we are meant to be hardy Scottish Highland dogs but come on, fair's fair! Still -we avoid the rain , managing to squeeze our hour and a half in between two concerted efforts at rain.

Mum and Dad have been missing the garden's regular 2006 sparrow-hawk, who'd zoom in across the waste ground behind the house, hedge-hopping over the fence or the beech and exploding among the feeding sparrows or starlings, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. She'd (it's a female one) then pause briefly in the tall Paulownia (Foxglove tree) (or once on the bird feeder!) looking for all the world as if she was saying "Curses! Foiled again!", before whipping away back to the trees across the waste ground. You'd know if there'd been a successful kill while we were out, as there'd be the tell tale "remains", a 2-3 foot diameter circle of plucked feathers and just the beak and forehead skull-bone of the victim. They don't waste much!

But since the building works had started, the ground cleared and the diggers moving about, we'd not seen her, so we guessed the new activity didn't suit her, and she'd moved on. But now she's back, and yesterday we spotted her resting in the Paulownia again, before scything off through the sheeting rain. Magnificent.

By the way. Mum has bought a new head for the toothbrush, so I'm hoping I'm forgiven.

Have a good Bank Holiday

Deefer

Flying School

The humans have gone mad this weekend, pruning everything that they could get their secateurs round (and sawing things they couldn't) - the myrtle, the flowering cherry, beech hedge, jasmine, choysia (not sure of the spelling of that one!) and the guelder rose. Whole builders bags of tree were taken to the tip. More plants arrived and bags of very dig-able shredded bark mulch. We are transformed.

The garden is a veritable flying school of brown baby starlings and fluffy sparrow fledgelings. It had also gone suspiciously quiet around the bluetit box (no parent birds swearing at anyone who went near the compost bins) so Dad checked and , indeed, the babies have successfully flown. That made Dad also check the "dunnock" box near the holly tree, now well secluded among burgeoning clematis. Sadly, an abandonned nest with cold eggs - and not (as we'd thought, dunnock (blue), but three white eggs flecked with red/brown, of robins. Gulp! Presumably the nest which would have been incubated by the mother robin I "terminated" on 20th April. Mum is therefore muttering darkly "There Deefs - not ONE robin but FOUR!". The evil that Westies do lives after them... the good is often interr-ed with their bones......

Rain rain and more rain today. Must be the Bank Holiday!

Deefs

Exhibit A

I have been convicted once more on the thinnest of grounds. My photo is of "Exhibit A" as produced by the Counsel for the Prosecution, to whit, one electric toothbrush, chewed. M'Lud! What does that prove. "Deefer ...... (sonorous resounding tones) .... you are an habitual criminal who accepts arrest as an occupational hazard, and presumably regards enprisonment in the same casual manner....."

I mean, Gor Blimey Mary Poppins - just coz ....

a) It was chewed
b) It had been at pup level on the charger
c) The bits were all in my bed
d) I chew stuff
e) They end up in my bed in bits

I do not feel this is grounds for suspicion, never mind conviction. Mum will not cuddle me tonight - "Go away! You ate my Toothbrush!"

Meanwhile, the garden is a flying school for dozens of baby starlings. Dad was wondering how come the suet blocks on the bird feeder went down so quickly. Mum pointed out that there were three baby starlings lined up along the top, and a parent bird clinging to the mesh, ripping bits off and passing them the 2 inches up to the babies. Hardly a struggle for survival. Not quite, wresting a living from the parched ground. Not nature red in tooth and claw, birds clinging onto life by the skin of their teeth.

Mind you, the humans can't talk. I think we're on the venison steaks tonight on the terrace. If they're lucky it won't tank down with rain. We'll be lucky if we see any. I don't know. The way they treat convicts these days - it's criminal

Have a great weekend

Deefs

The Dog Shelf

When most people talk about the "dog shelf" they generally mean the floor, but we really have one - look! All the best Terrace/Patio tables have a shelf, it seems, and that's where I've taken to resting while the humans eat and chat. Keeps me that bit closer to the food smells.

They're out there again tonight as the dusk falls, watching the antics of (they are sure) a huge stag beetle manouvring clumsily and slowly about on the wing. They also have a Bat Detector, which they set to 50 kHz, and then listen to the squarks, buzzes, clicks, squelches and farts of the bat sonar, as the wee beasties wheel and flit, dive, turn and loop between the bay tree and the house. Or is it just an excuse to sit out in the warm evening with a Metaxa ?

Oh - I am told I have "come on" though I don't know for sure what that means. I am 8 months and a week.

Weekend's a-coming in

Deefs

Chillin' on the Terrace

Is it my Birthday? The cats got left over huss for breakfast, and we got raw pork-ribs for supper. Then it was an evening for chilling on the terrace, watching the humans eat roast chicken and French bread - so we knew we'd get some rib-cagey, spinal bits in our bowls afterwards.

A good evening too for meeting new and old friends on the Rec. We had a nice charge around with a lovely black Shih-Tzu called Farley, said Hello to a young-at-heart spaniel called Barney-Boy (who meg and Haggis have known since they were all pups, and who still hasn't slowed down). We met a lovely collie x German Shepherd called Rox, and we met again the gorgeous smoky-grey German Shepherd pup "Star". Lovely evening for promenading - just like the Rec was originally used for...... perhaps a bit more boisterous!

Deefs

Hector and the Hedgehog

Asbo is grounded for crimes against Mississippi - the cat, not the US State. She (Missi) suffered no lasting damage. It was noisy but not damaging, and we three westies are not popular for our part in it, which was to gather round like school kids in the playground yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight! .... Gooooo-orn my son!" etc

Meanwhile, Hector (Real Dad) has amazed my first human family by carrying indoors a rolled up hedgehog, large as life and twice as natural (twice as flea and mite infested too!). Arghhhh! Humans leppin' about and panicking in all directions.... "Get it out, the filthy thing!" etc.

Now, I don't want to upset the sensibilities of hedgehog sympathisers but any realistic hedgehog fancier will accept that they are not the most vermin free creatures (how do you groom and scratch yourself when you are covered in spines?) - indeed, we have read somewhere that the population of "parasites" is actually a symbiotic thing, the wee beasties cleaning the skin layer rather like pilot fish on a shark.

What ever, a fed up hedgehog is not the thing you want uncurling on the shag-pile and taking off at a trot for the nearest dark indoor corner.

More to the point, given that hedgehogs are indeed well covered in spines, how does a westie pick one up and carry it indoors without getting a lacerated mouth?

That one, you'll have to ask me Dad. He's just Magic!

Deefs

Ragworth (Asbo)

Here he is - my Hero, Rags. Allegedly a pedigree Lakeland/ Patterdale terrier, he is a fine (cough) handsome chap (splutter); suave, debonair, well groomed, not a hair out of place etc . OK in this one his chops are stylishly peppered with duckweed from his latest splosh about in the top pond. When he leapt out and headed for the terrace on which all the humans were dozing in the afternoon sun, there were cries of "Don't shake near me!" and "Arghhhh! Geddaway you filthy beast!" , and I'm sure I heard Dad yell "Don't let him in the house!" Gotta love him

Today is our town's Classic Car and Motorbike Show so our walk had to go up through town so Dad could see all the shiny veteran transport. Returning via the park I had a nice romp about with a smoky-grey Alsatian pup called Star (4 months)

And Dad tells me he's been up the allotment and finished off "his Autumn digging". Not behind or anything, are you dad?

Have a good Sunday
Deefs

The Cooler King

Today we are inspired by Steve McQueen's character in The Great Escape film and I expect all readers to be humming or whistling that well known theme tune "Doo doo..... Doo DOOO d-doop doop" etc

Beyond our garden fence at present is an enormous building site, soon to house 250+ dwellings, but currently a mess of levelled soil, mud, part-built garages, scaffolding bricks, huge diggers and other man-toys and (more importantly to us) FOXes. Yep - those exciting wild nearly-dogs who smell and scent-mark and prowl and scream and yap and rustle the vegetation, and drive we westies mad with call-of-the-wild yearnings and boiling territorial protectionist rage. If only we could get through the dog-proof fence and chase them, we'd see them off for sure. Well, Megan and I would. Haggis would probably stay back and encourage us from the safety of the garden (and grass us up and do "girlie-swot, teachers pet stuff")

So what is my picture today? An uninteresting bit of chain-link fence down between the beech hedge and the new arris-rail / feather-edge fence? A low 4-course brick wall and a load of brambles? Well it was, till we discovered that by nosing under the wire we could squeeze between the wall and the fence and whoosh - we'd be gone.

So it was that late last night when Mum and Dad had finished celebrating becoming Auntie/Uncle again (fizz on the terrace - very posh!), and Dad had retired to bed, a very concerned, bringing "the dogs" in, Mum came up and said "I can only find Haggis!". Everybody got up again and fired up torches and scrambled down to look over fences and under sheds, round gates and behind bushes.

Nope. Haggis was the only dog in the garden. Then suddenly he wasn't because I'd come back, attracted by the hulla-balloo. "Deefer!... Where have you been and where's Meggie?". So I obligingly bolted back for the hole to go find her, but this time the humans followed me with torches and unfortunately caught the sight of me disappearing. Busted!

There then followed an exciting time where humans whistled and yelled and shone torches over fences, seeing the green eyes of foxes, and the white flanks of westies moving about, but then suddenly dog-treats were being offered and the game was up. The only difficulty was persuading Meggie she really would fit back through the hole downwards, and then we were in, and Dad wedged up the hole with some serious logs (those now in the pic and more besides), and we are effectively grounded.

We were filthy, but it was fun while it lasted. Freedom!

Yee hah
Deefer McQueen

Big Fella'

Hugo the Dane, as promised. Big lad, isn't he. Not as big, though as the family's previous Danes. Apparently we are to meet, but on neutral territory and with Hugo on the lead to start with at least - probably Conyer Creek or somewhere like that. Gulp.

Meanwhile, all I have to report is another roll in the fox poo on the Rec, that earned me an impromptu bath in the Belfast sink. It's not on!

Have a great weekend
Deefs

Go Ellie!

Yay! My Big-Sis is through her first season, and me not even started yet. Dad and Mum are putting forward theories to do with there being 2 dominant dogs, and especially an Alpha-female around the house, keeping me in puppy mode? Alpha-female? Hah! I just let her win! And as for Haggis, Bless him. He wouldn't know "dominant" if it camped out on the back lawn and proposed to his daughter!

Ellie is also now very very hairy as the groomer lady wanted to hold off clipping her till she'd got through her season. She looks about midway in size between myself and Archie, but it's very difficult to tell when she is insulated with 4 inch shag-pile rug

Go Ellie!

Deefs

Soggy Bluebell Walk

Fun weekend. Mum does a "Eurovision Song Contest Party" in which the humans seem to assemble to rip the mick out of the contest and worship at the throne of the TogMeister. At one stage it looked like there might be 9 dogs - we three, Old Dad's three (Hector, Mollie and Archie), Diamond's "Asbo", 2CV P+J's "Janey" and a cairn owned by ace guitarist chum of Mum and Dad, "Dylan". In the event (probably a good thing) we just had Janey, so mayhem didn't happen and the cats survived. Arguable whether they would have done had Hector and Mollie arrived (real Mum and Real Dad) - they like a good cat apparently !!

My pics today though, are of the Bluebell Walk in Challock Forest that finally happened. The bluebells were just about clinging on in places but definitely past their best. Best thing ever though was Old-Dad turning up with Hector, Mollie and the amazing Archie, my brother and litter-mate. I just stress that one because of how huge Archie has grown. Look at the pic of just the three (on leads) before we started. Mollie is left, Arch' in the middle and Hector (Dad) on the right. Arch is bigger than Hector already and about one and a half times the size of me!

What a time we had. It was chucking it down and the bluebells were disappearing rapidly as bramble grows up through and beech leaves expand to close up the canopy. But Archie and I had a whale of a time charging round and round. He may be bigger and more powerful but I am nippy and manouvre-able, and we're closely matched in straight line speed.

The other pics are of us out in the forest, one down by the abandonned riding school, and the other in a narrow path with still a few bluebells. Finally there are all 6 of us back at the cars, lathered up with mud and wet. From left to right we are (Front left Mollie (Mum), behind left Hector (Dad), Front centre Archie (look how big he is), behind him partly obscured, Haggis, then me and finally Meggie. We can't wait to get towelled off and home so that we can crash out. That was midday - it's now nearly 3 and we haven't stirred yet!

Enjoy the rest of the weekend

Deefs

Getting there

Much to the consternation of Mum and Dad, after three months or so of being dry and clean indoors, I have suddenly started to pee indoors - my own dog-bed one day, the family (human) bed the next (Yay! Right through the duvet and into the mattress - how popular was I?), and the rug in the computer room the third day. Put that with eating grass, very soft poos and being sick, and the humans are starting to talk of hormonal changes, discomfort, coming of age... that sort of thing. They are inspecting my "below stairs" quite often now, but apparently not much is happening.

What a weeeknd the humans have, and we'll be involved in some of it. Saturday they are off to Hastings to be at Dad's Dad's 80th, then back here for their own mad Eurovision party, and then on Sunday, the long-awaited bluebell walk (yes, there still are plenty!) and an allotments volunteer work-party day

Have a good 'un youselves!

Deefer
(Girl...You'll be a woman soon)

OD's Dog

Janie. Rescue greyhound owned by 2 of Dad's 2CV mates. Allegedly a nightmare to let off the lead. She needs a quarter mile of obstacle-free open space before you can let her off the lead as she takes off like a rocket and only slows to draw breath and look round to see where her owners are after a quarter mile. If you let her off near a fence she will try to clear it without slowing; likewise trees, bushes, people, dogs etc; basically anything other than flat grass or dirt. Voosh!

I am in the dog 'ouse again.

Text from Mum to Dad at about half eight this morning

"Internet shopping delivery, shower, dog walk. Tired before I start!"

closely followed by

"..and OD's dog found the biggest pile of fox poo in the Rec and rolled in it!"

Dad (frantically thinking "who is OD?") texts back "Who is OD?"

Mum : "Your bloomin' colleague, Old-Dad, who bred this demon!"

Now it's all clear "OD's dog" is me, but Mum has dis-owned me and OD is getting the blame. New Dad has a brilliant laugh about this at work with his chums (and OD), and Mum does her best to fit in a dog-wash between all the other stuff and having to leave for work. Dis-owned I am.

Mum and Dad were fascinated by the stats coming off the site meter on my blog. We have been read in Malaysia, in Turkey, in New Zealand, Chile and in 30-odd other countries. Some people come on for 10 minutes or more and presumably have a good old read. You are all most welcome, and we are all excited to think that a tiny dog can "travel the globe" in this way. Please feel free to comment if you want - let us know how we're being received.

Look after yourself

Deefer

Rough Winds do Shake....

...the Darling Buds of May

Every walk these days seems to take us through the allotment. Dad is worried about a rather tall stand of broad beans (Yerk! Meggie likes to eat them raw, and sits down at the feet of anyone stripping them from their pods, hoping that the fingers will be less than dexterous and the odd bean will ping out of the basin and onto the floor.). He is amazed that they have got this far without being smashed down by wind and rain. They are October plantings, so they're coming ready and "we" have had the first crop off them. Rain on it's own they can take, and wind on it's own, but if they're heavy with rain and get hit by wind, Dad ends up fighting to stand them back up with canes and string, rescuing pods from the mud. We don't mind going that way - it's a nice walk

The 2CV is sick, so we must have a visit from 2CV-Llew (The Doctor). The fuel pump is kaput. Llew has a superb long-haired Jack Russell called Rosie, whose crowning glory is a great quiff of spirally hair on the top of her head.

Dad comes back once more, smelling of Hugo the Dane. We believe he has been consorting with Hugo's family (especially as Dad came home also smelling of Battenberg cake and M+M flavoured American cookies). You'll get fat and spotty, Dad

Mum is buried in her studies, armed with a nice glass of merlot. I am harrassing the cats on the spare bed.

Deefs

In Car Entertainment

We three dogs are generally fairly chilled in the car, either sitting up gazing out of the windows, or sleeping till we hear from the gear changes (and smell the smells) that we're near the forest, or the walk. None of this leppin' about and squeaking for us. So we're amazed to hear from old-Dad that brother Archie is an absolute pest, charging about the car and whimpering and squeaking for most of the journey, and has now started real-Dad (Hector) on it too. Old Dad is getting cross!

"Not so smug!" says new Dad! Before you start holier-than-thou ing, remember just before Devil's Dyke yesterday? Ooops - yes. I am small enough to hop down into the rear passenger footwell in thwe 2CV and then squeeze under the driving seat. Not so clever to emerge under Dad's pedal-feet just as he's coming onto a round-about. I am snatched by the collar and lobbed onto the passenger seat while Dad does the round-about (and told off... :-(( ), then levered over the back seat as soon as we're through. There is talk of harnesses and restraint

Ahhh the cemetary. One of those places where Dad would just LOVE to let us off the leads. Acres of grass and shrubs, nobody about, rabbits everywhere. We proceed through at an amazing pace, all pulling on the leads in all directions, as bunnies run for cover. If we could be let off the lead we'd tire our selves in very short order, but it'd be just our luck that behind that bush would be ol' Jimmy tending Aunt Maudie's grave, and weeping softly till 3 westies exploded through at 90 mph scattering his carefully arranged flowers like the feathers of a pigeon hit by a car. Trauma! Fines for Dad, lead injections for us? Nice idea, but there are other places.

Camber sands is, I'm told, excellent, but I've not been yet. "We" go to the River Rother end, taking the small lane next to the wind surfing school. That way we avoid the happy campers in Camber-proper, and end up on miles of flat beach, backed by sand dunes, backed by buckthorn scrub, crawling with bunnies. Dad jokes that it is the best dog grooming ever. In the sea to get washed, across the beach and hot dunes to get dried and bleached, and then into the low-growing buckthorn to get combed and stripped to perfection

Looking forward to it!

Deefs

2CV London to Brighton

Huge adventure today! Dad's 2CV club's London to Brighton run. "London" and "Brighton" are, in this context, just there for historic reasons. The Kent gang actually start at the Cock Inn in Luddesdown, near Meopham, and everyone finishes at Hove Park. They just call it the "L2B" so evryone knows what they're talking about.

Sooooo, we all get up early and a couple of 2CV's pull up outside our house. We are loaded into our own 2CV along with water, picnic etc, and the three cars head for Luddesdown. There gather 25 (we made it) cars for a photo-call.

Then we set off in our convoy and bimble gently through Kent and Sussex, following bits of M25, passing Lingfield Racecourse, Turners Hill, Hands Cross and eventually Devil's Dyke over the chalk. By then our route has merged with all the other routes and several hundred 2CVs and other old Citroens descend on Hove Park

It's great - it's a massive park so we can get out of the car and race about, playing ball and meeting all the other 2CV-dogs. The back seat comes out of a 2CV and makes a perfect picnic chair. It was reasonably warm and stayed dry all day, and Dad shared his pork-pie with us.

What a day - home and hosed now, and we've even had Diamond, Den and Asbo round for an evening meal. Tonight NO-ONE will need to sing me a lullaby

Deefer zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Hunting the Haggis

Thought you might like these pics from our morning walk - in no particular order, they are

1) a rather smart one of me standing by the moored up barge "Bella of Bow" Dad's Mum was born and raised in Bromley-by-Bow, (although anyone sounding less like a cockney sparrer' you could not witsh to meet!), so we love this one. The "poly-tunnel" in the background, by the way, is not a horticultural thing - it's a makeshift tent the barge-boys build over their decks during winter maintenance

2) Me having a delivate sniff of the nether regions of boat-yard dog Jasper

3) The "Billygoat Gruff" bridge which is our way in to the boat yard. Faversham Creek is in the background, and the marshes out towards Nagden Farm. Meggie is just crossing it. We are all completely un-fazed by the ricketty-ness of this bridge; so dad can't understand why I hate the perfectly solid footbridge over the railway line.

4) Superb all-action shot of me heroically about to bring down a full grown Haggis-beast (prey animal), what I caught out in the open in the grassy plains of.. um... the Rec. Coo His teeth look a bit scary in this one. Hope he doesn't put up too much of a fight. A girl could get damaged!

Have a great weekend

Deefs

The Ancient Mariner

..he stoppeth one of three
By thy old grey beard and glittering eye
Wherefore stop'st thou me?

And all that Jazz. The Ancient Mariner and his good lady wife Barb, are chums of Mum and Dad, and fancied a walk in the Forst before the bluebells finished. So yesterday we got a lovely evening walk in Challock Forest, where the bluebells are just at that stage where they are moving from peak to "over", with one or two bells on each spike starting to wilt, dry and turn pale. We took it gently as opposed to our usual route-march (that suited Meggie down to the ground!) and went a slightly shorter route (which also suited the Lady M!), while H and I charged around

Extra treat was that with 3 humans in the car, the AM sat in the back with us and we could fuss him and he us all the way there and back. Not sure he was 100% appreciative, but heh!

It's the weekend. Mum has just video'd me with her phone. I have a big flower pot in my mouth which I am trying to sneak from the pond area to my hidey-hole, but the pot more than reaches from my mouth to the ground, so the video is an embarrassing mess of clonks and bangs as I keep knocking the pot off kerbs and plants. Very difficult to see round, a large pot.

Dad came home smelling of Hugo the Dane, once more. He has stopped off on way home with Jezz for tea and cookies. They have a plan to try to get some cute pics of tiny me and enormous Hugo, always assuming that he doesn't try to kill me with a first bite! Eeek!

Have a great weekend
Deefs

Happy Birthday Megan! 11 Today!

Ooops - what a negligent Pup I have been, not posting since the weekend, what with T coming over from Ireland and Dad working long hours - things have been a bit chaotic

But today is Meggie's 11th Birthday; 77 in "real money"! Happy Birthday Megs! Will I ever be that old? (Not if you persist in the trouser-biting-on-the-stairs routine! Dad). Her Birthday "cake" will be raw pork-ribs, which is Westie Heaven

I have a report that brother Archie has been found guilty of muppetry. First-Mum, was given a picture of real Mum and Dad (Hector and Mollie) sitting on their sofa, as a present by New Mum and Dad (lorks!) when they collected me as a pup, and she's been using it as a wall paper on her computer ever since. Well allegedly Archie spotted it the other day and started shouting at it, trying to climb the furniture to get at it and would not leave First-Mum any peace to work, so she was forced to change the wall paper. Dogs on TV is bad enough (see our Crufts entries earlier) but pups taking agin' your humble PC is another thing

Wildlife Dept.

1) Grey squirrels are now a regular visitor to our garden, and when we spot them they are regular users of the safe haven which is the Albertine rose all up the back of the house. When we "tree" a squirrel up there, Megan and I are steely-eyed killer dogs, sitting with ears and eyes (eyes fixed and dilated!) focussed on the squirrels' hidey hole, willing him to come down and play with us. We won't hurt you, little squirrel! We whimper and cry occasionally and sometimes do that single "YAP!" thing, which is all about shocking the little treasure into falling out of the Albertine. My pic, by the way, is Meggie looking out of the back door - the Albertine is directly above her head, out of shot.

2) Collared doves are now so intent on requiting, that today in the Rec there were two billing and coo-ing (and um... requiting) that I raced over to get them, but they didn't fly away, so I slowed and slowed (Mum laughing out loud at my indecision), till I was 3 feet away. Then I stopped, willing them to scarper, so I could chase them.... nothing doing. Eventually frustration got the better of me and I sat down and went "REFFF!!" at them. They flew off then!

Love from us all - and more Birthday Greetings for the ol' gal

Deefer