Out for our early one this morning we come across old friends Truffles (Choc lab) and Storm (Long haired chihuahua) plus their new Bedlington chum Tali - she's been mentioned on the blog back in January, as replacement for the late lamented Gigot. Tali is now 5 months old and a superb dog. She's fast and full of beans , playful and very friendly, trying to make a fuss of everyone in the Rec at once. Tricky when they are 100's of yards apart!
At one stage she makes a bee-line for Springer "LB" (the "L" used to stand for "Little" apparently) who is walked by near neighbours on the Rec, but always on about 20 miles of cord (OK slight exaggeration!). Tali's owners call and whistle, but LB's up for a bit of running around play, and Tali is a case of "none so deaf as those who won't hear".
We all end up together in one big doggie melee. When we eventually head our separate ways, Tali is led off to a good range before being released. She heads straight back for LB and resumes playing. This happens 4 or 5 times before she is eventually led all the way off the Rec.
Respect!
Deefer
Saturday, 14 March 2009
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
I Can See for Miles
With apologies to Pete Townsend....
To the East and North of our allotment site has been, for at least as long as Meggie can remember, abandoned farmland, gradually being taken over by hawthorn, birch and brambles, and always threatening to turn into a massive housing estate at the hands of a local developer.
It's been fantastic dog walking country, criss crossed as it is by the paths opened up by trail bikers, and you'll have heard in this blog of any number of circular "loop" walks that use it - the Levee loop, the concrete bridge, the high path, the short-levee. Meggie's a bit old now for the full levee loop, but we still enjoy a charge about down there and only weeks back I took myself off for a rabbit hunt through its thickets (see blog called "Only gone for 15 minutes")
It abounded in wild flowers at the right season - rosebay willow herb (fire weed to our US readers), thistles, bristly ox-tongue and blossom from the brambles and hawthorn (may), blackthorn (sloes) and morello cherries. It ran with rabbits and we could regularly see foxes, nightingales, pheasants, cuckoos and kestrels.
Now suddenly, with the credit crunch clipping the wings of the developer, we hear that it is to be returned to farmland, cleared, ploughed and planted to oilseed rape and wheat. So out there now, all across the "Abbey Fields" (as they are known) big machinery is at work - huge hydraulic tracked diggers, JCB's (back-hoes) with telescopic jibs and grabs, tractors with massive tillers etc, clearing the scrub, piling it into huge pyres and torching them. You can see the boiling brown smoke for miles.
You can see for miles, too ! It is surprising how the hawthorn and bramble rises up to hem you in shrinking your horizon to a few feet. Today, on the high ridge path we could see for miles across the feilds - even a dog with her eyes 8 inches from the deck has a clear view.
We don't know whether to be pleased that the threat of the Housing Estate has gone (for now) or sad for the foxes made homeless, the birds forced to move on, and the end to a goodly crop of blackberries. Farmland is OK, but ecologically and in terms of bio-diversity, a bright yellow field of OSR is almost sterile, and wheat sprayed 3 or 4 times a week might as well be scorched earth.
Ah well, the farmer guy is promising to keeop some paths open and allow we dogs continued access.
As for Megan, our walk today to see the fires and clearances is an hour and a half, which is just about at her limit. She is dawdling like a pro by the time we walk back down hill to the house. She's walked those fields since she was a pup - for nearly 13 years we've had that lovely wild place - almost a nature reserve - to walk in, just minutes from the front door.
Ah... waxing lyrical
Deefski
To the East and North of our allotment site has been, for at least as long as Meggie can remember, abandoned farmland, gradually being taken over by hawthorn, birch and brambles, and always threatening to turn into a massive housing estate at the hands of a local developer.
It's been fantastic dog walking country, criss crossed as it is by the paths opened up by trail bikers, and you'll have heard in this blog of any number of circular "loop" walks that use it - the Levee loop, the concrete bridge, the high path, the short-levee. Meggie's a bit old now for the full levee loop, but we still enjoy a charge about down there and only weeks back I took myself off for a rabbit hunt through its thickets (see blog called "Only gone for 15 minutes")
It abounded in wild flowers at the right season - rosebay willow herb (fire weed to our US readers), thistles, bristly ox-tongue and blossom from the brambles and hawthorn (may), blackthorn (sloes) and morello cherries. It ran with rabbits and we could regularly see foxes, nightingales, pheasants, cuckoos and kestrels.
Now suddenly, with the credit crunch clipping the wings of the developer, we hear that it is to be returned to farmland, cleared, ploughed and planted to oilseed rape and wheat. So out there now, all across the "Abbey Fields" (as they are known) big machinery is at work - huge hydraulic tracked diggers, JCB's (back-hoes) with telescopic jibs and grabs, tractors with massive tillers etc, clearing the scrub, piling it into huge pyres and torching them. You can see the boiling brown smoke for miles.
You can see for miles, too ! It is surprising how the hawthorn and bramble rises up to hem you in shrinking your horizon to a few feet. Today, on the high ridge path we could see for miles across the feilds - even a dog with her eyes 8 inches from the deck has a clear view.
We don't know whether to be pleased that the threat of the Housing Estate has gone (for now) or sad for the foxes made homeless, the birds forced to move on, and the end to a goodly crop of blackberries. Farmland is OK, but ecologically and in terms of bio-diversity, a bright yellow field of OSR is almost sterile, and wheat sprayed 3 or 4 times a week might as well be scorched earth.
Ah well, the farmer guy is promising to keeop some paths open and allow we dogs continued access.
As for Megan, our walk today to see the fires and clearances is an hour and a half, which is just about at her limit. She is dawdling like a pro by the time we walk back down hill to the house. She's walked those fields since she was a pup - for nearly 13 years we've had that lovely wild place - almost a nature reserve - to walk in, just minutes from the front door.
Ah... waxing lyrical
Deefski
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Slum-dog
You know that scene early in Slumdog Millionaire where our hero jumps into the farting swamp of bubbling poo?
We were being walked through the allotments this morning and Dad stopped to chat to a couple of blokes. Seemed like a good opportunity to me to nip off and find a particularly rancid smear of fox poo in which to roll my chest (both sides), collar and rump (both sides).
Dad says he can remember clearly being bathed as a small boy in the kitchen sink, sitting on the draining board. You had to watch your back because behind you was the "Geyser" hot water generator thingy.
Meanwhile, all hail to the weather. It's hailing.
How we laughed.
Deefer
Saturday, 7 March 2009
Another Cracker
Yay! We already know one "Cracker", little Yorkie belonging to Steak-Lady in Portmarnock, Co Dublin, but now we've found another - 3 year old Border terrier cross, shaggy and red-brown. Great for an extended race about with in the Rec this morning.
And some photo's. Dad's solution on how to get some 10 foot chestnut poles up to the allotment, some signs we are well into spring - the tiny tete-a-tete daffs - plus still hanging in there from Christmas, the helebores.
Also (says Dad, rather embarrassingly) a good haul of salad potatoes which should probably have been lifted at least 8 months ago. No matter, they are in good nick and the humans assure me they are delicious. Like having a very early 2009 crop, while most people's (including Dad's real ones) are still chitting in trays in the shed!
We're off to do Question Master on a Friends of Kings Wood quiz night. Have a good saturday night
Deefski
Friday, 6 March 2009
A "Delicate Flower"
Those of a sensitive disposition or anyone about to eat supper, please avoid this posting!
For all that I am known to be a feisty so-and-so, very full of my own opinions and importance, Mum and Dad are exasperated with my guts seeming to be sooooo sensitive to anything other than straight tinned (Butchers Tripe meatloaf) dog food.
Unpredictably, I will suddenly go right off my food, ignoring bowls of the normal food, and toying with the dried-meat dog-sweets (they get called "sweeties" in this house) that I normally take the humans fingers off to get at. This reluctance is followed by a few bowels-turned-to-water motions (just dark liquid and grass!). 24 hours later I'm back, sorted and ravenous.
Megan and Haggis are, by comparison, tough as old boots, and seem to be able to eat anything, so the family dog menu has always included raw pork ribs for treats, or the spine cut out when spatch-cocking a raw chicken, any rabbit or hare bones (avoiding the long limb bones), and even at times chicken bone-ends - the cartilege-y bits cut off the shafts with secateurs, plus of course any big-animal (sheep, cow) bones we can get from the butcher.
These episodes of poorly guts happen about every 2 months, and because they do not seem to follow a pattern, Mum and Dad have been a bit zealous in cutting out these extra foods, thinking that maybe it was that chicken? Maybe it was the ribs? Safer to not give anything. But because it's not fair to me to let M+H have them when I can't, all three of us have had to do without, and no end of potential dog-treats have gone in the bin.
Dad has now decided that I should become an experimental dog. He's had me "stabilised" on the Butchers tripe for a good while now, and he's going to gently re-introduce the extra's one by one, with "boring" gaps in between, to see if I get belly ache. This way "we" might be able to get back into treats for M+H without the squitty-bum effect on me. Of couse, I love the treats, so I'm up for this too.
I'll let you know how we get on. First up - one raw pork rib.....
Deefer.
For all that I am known to be a feisty so-and-so, very full of my own opinions and importance, Mum and Dad are exasperated with my guts seeming to be sooooo sensitive to anything other than straight tinned (Butchers Tripe meatloaf) dog food.
Unpredictably, I will suddenly go right off my food, ignoring bowls of the normal food, and toying with the dried-meat dog-sweets (they get called "sweeties" in this house) that I normally take the humans fingers off to get at. This reluctance is followed by a few bowels-turned-to-water motions (just dark liquid and grass!). 24 hours later I'm back, sorted and ravenous.
Megan and Haggis are, by comparison, tough as old boots, and seem to be able to eat anything, so the family dog menu has always included raw pork ribs for treats, or the spine cut out when spatch-cocking a raw chicken, any rabbit or hare bones (avoiding the long limb bones), and even at times chicken bone-ends - the cartilege-y bits cut off the shafts with secateurs, plus of course any big-animal (sheep, cow) bones we can get from the butcher.
These episodes of poorly guts happen about every 2 months, and because they do not seem to follow a pattern, Mum and Dad have been a bit zealous in cutting out these extra foods, thinking that maybe it was that chicken? Maybe it was the ribs? Safer to not give anything. But because it's not fair to me to let M+H have them when I can't, all three of us have had to do without, and no end of potential dog-treats have gone in the bin.
Dad has now decided that I should become an experimental dog. He's had me "stabilised" on the Butchers tripe for a good while now, and he's going to gently re-introduce the extra's one by one, with "boring" gaps in between, to see if I get belly ache. This way "we" might be able to get back into treats for M+H without the squitty-bum effect on me. Of couse, I love the treats, so I'm up for this too.
I'll let you know how we get on. First up - one raw pork rib.....
Deefer.
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Taking after Mother
It seems that one of Megan's pups from the first litter, "Lady", may have Cushings, taking after her mother. She is owned by one two Dad's work colleagues (married) and one of them commented today that Lady "may have diabetes" as she is drinking a lot. Getting chatting, as Dad started asking the "and does she...." list of symptoms questions (pot bellied look, incontinence "accidents" indoors, reluctance or inability to jump up onto furniture, lameness for no obvious reason......) it started to look more and more like Meggie 3 years ago.
Dad has recommended testing for Cushings, and googled some websites to print for the lady (Sarah). The vet had apparently listed it as a possibility, but will now look more closely, knowing that Lady's "dam" has it, and started showing symptoms at the same age as Lady is now.
We are back at the Rec and spot, in the distance, Rags being walked by Diamond. Not so much walked as being romped around with in a boisterous manner by a big black shaggy collie and a brown shaggy terrier of similar build to Rags himself. Getting closer we can see that the collie and terrier are old chums Monty (collie) and Charlie (young terrier). What's more the "boisterous" is translated, on closer inspection to be the three boys having a whale of a time chasing, bundling, wrestling and, at times, even getting a bit ...um.... amorous with one another.
This is reciprocated equally between Mont and Rags, with each giving as good as they get, as noisily as each other and in a goodly range of positions (a girl is quite breathless, watching!). We three westies are left looking on in amusement (unless chasing the tennis ball, in my case) while Rags gets back in spades, plenty of what he used to give Haggis (and sometimes gets as loud in protest barking as H used to get).
If you can't take the heat, Rags.... The humans are all amused too, and the general feeling is that it's good to let off steam, and all three hooligans will sleep very well this evening.
Boys will be boys
Deefer
Dad has recommended testing for Cushings, and googled some websites to print for the lady (Sarah). The vet had apparently listed it as a possibility, but will now look more closely, knowing that Lady's "dam" has it, and started showing symptoms at the same age as Lady is now.
We are back at the Rec and spot, in the distance, Rags being walked by Diamond. Not so much walked as being romped around with in a boisterous manner by a big black shaggy collie and a brown shaggy terrier of similar build to Rags himself. Getting closer we can see that the collie and terrier are old chums Monty (collie) and Charlie (young terrier). What's more the "boisterous" is translated, on closer inspection to be the three boys having a whale of a time chasing, bundling, wrestling and, at times, even getting a bit ...um.... amorous with one another.
This is reciprocated equally between Mont and Rags, with each giving as good as they get, as noisily as each other and in a goodly range of positions (a girl is quite breathless, watching!). We three westies are left looking on in amusement (unless chasing the tennis ball, in my case) while Rags gets back in spades, plenty of what he used to give Haggis (and sometimes gets as loud in protest barking as H used to get).
If you can't take the heat, Rags.... The humans are all amused too, and the general feeling is that it's good to let off steam, and all three hooligans will sleep very well this evening.
Boys will be boys
Deefer
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Bitter Wind
After a succession of lovely Spring-like days and sunshine, it's a big shock tonight when out of no where comes a bitterly cold wind that cuts through a dogs fur and has all the humans at the "terrier club" on the Rec tonight wearing gloves and buttoning up their coats to the chin. It's not an official terrier club - it just so happens that the half dozen dogs who accumulate in the middle of the Rec are all terrier sized - we three, Misha, Bobby, Mindy.
I've not been on for a couple of days - we've been down to Hastings in the interim to visit the Steak Lady at her lovely, mature, wooded garden. It's a gathering of the Clan for Dad's family, so the Swindon lot (who don't "do" dogs are there) as well as Steak Lady's sis and bro-in-law who normally have big boy Dalmatian "Milo" (but not today - he's at home with one of Dad's cousins)
The Swindon lot are most curious and confuse us no end. They are the only humans we meet regularly who don't like dogs. The mother has always hated them, so the father avoids them out of loyalty, and the daughter has been brought up to shoo them (us) away. Nothing personal, and I'm sure they'd never lift a finger to hurt a dog, but no matter how much charm we turn on, we can make no headway.
Stamp-Man is actually in hospital at present having a series of tests to see if he has a heart or a brain (apparently he does, and they are both fine). We divert over to the big Conquest Hospital on the way home so that Mum and Dad can go visit him. He is bright enough but fed up with hospital life as he heads into his 2nd week, and is very rude about the veggie sausages they tried to feed him - they taste like sawdust, he says. We're with you there Stamp-Man, you hurry and get well soon. You look after yourself, too (and him) "T-Fer" (Human with the name nearest to mine!)
Deefski
I've not been on for a couple of days - we've been down to Hastings in the interim to visit the Steak Lady at her lovely, mature, wooded garden. It's a gathering of the Clan for Dad's family, so the Swindon lot (who don't "do" dogs are there) as well as Steak Lady's sis and bro-in-law who normally have big boy Dalmatian "Milo" (but not today - he's at home with one of Dad's cousins)
The Swindon lot are most curious and confuse us no end. They are the only humans we meet regularly who don't like dogs. The mother has always hated them, so the father avoids them out of loyalty, and the daughter has been brought up to shoo them (us) away. Nothing personal, and I'm sure they'd never lift a finger to hurt a dog, but no matter how much charm we turn on, we can make no headway.
Stamp-Man is actually in hospital at present having a series of tests to see if he has a heart or a brain (apparently he does, and they are both fine). We divert over to the big Conquest Hospital on the way home so that Mum and Dad can go visit him. He is bright enough but fed up with hospital life as he heads into his 2nd week, and is very rude about the veggie sausages they tried to feed him - they taste like sawdust, he says. We're with you there Stamp-Man, you hurry and get well soon. You look after yourself, too (and him) "T-Fer" (Human with the name nearest to mine!)
Deefski
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