Ghosties and Ghoulies

More of our journey here tomorrow, but for now I need to tell you that all Silverwood has gone loopy. The house is decorated up to look like a haunted house, the bay window re-covered with great big witches cats, the front lawn given over to pretend grave stones and bat-fairy lights, skeletons covered in black raggedy drapes everywhere, and a CD player playing a loop of witchy laughter, screams, thunder and ghostie moans and howls.

Every child for miles around is dressed in elabourate costumes and face paint - Em-J is a zombie-doctor with a superb half-decomposed-abdomen, ribs and guts hanging out, knee joint exposed, green and black face paint with realistic scars oozing blood (well vaseline and red colouring), medical "scrubs" and white coat covered in blood, rubber gloves smeared with gore.

J-M is a white lady vampire - white tights and top, white shoes, gloves, white face paint, long flowing white hair, black lipstick and realistic dribbles of blood from either side of the mouth. M (3) is a skeleton pirate with similarly elabourate rib cage and "Jack Sparrow" tunic and leggings, one a boot-foot, the other a stump. Baby R (1 on Monday) is a superb pumpkin.

They are, even as I write, touring round the estate(s) Trick-or-Treat-ing armed with big loot-sacks which they will have no trouble filling. Like many Mums and Dads in Ireland, the Silverwoods have bought crates of kids-sweeties (many of them hallowe'en specials like chocolate eye-balls and "witches fingers" jellies, worms and maggots). They will return home several times to unload before going out again. As they are out we stay back here to receive similar numbers of Trick or Treaters inbound.

Meanwhile there are fireworks going bang and general chaos, so we (dogs) are racing about adding to the noise and battling to get out into the street to join in. Not a big disaster, as it's a cul-de-sac and every driver in Ireland is expecting small children to be loose tonight. The kids are too excited to worry about closing doors, so the grown ups are always shouting "Door!" and "Dogs".

Enough again for now. I'll leave you with one amusing story. 4 tiny children (4 maybe) accompanied by Mum but none the less a bit trepidatious about approaching the front door through the "grave yard" and past the skeletons and screaming CD player (Owwwooooooo!). They finally make it and I'm at the kitchen door. I look up and am shocked to see 4 skeletons in the front door way - definitely in need of "telling!!!". I charge up the hall giving it "Raff! Raff" RAFF!!! RAFF!!!", stopping just feet away from the threshold. The kids scatter in alarm, thinking the hound of the baskervilles is at their heels. Ha! Come here trying to scare MY humans!

Deefski the brave
(OK - Deefski the sitting on Daddy's lap shivering at the fireworks)

White Death

Today I graduated from birds to mammals in the "steely-eyed killer" department. The only other kill to my name (shamefully) was a robin over a year ago - search robin on this blog and you'll probably find it. But today, being walked home on a lead through the cemetery, the "H" and I were darting hither and thither after squirrels. Dad was not too worried, because squirrels are way faster than westies and have the advantage of being able to cheat, using the 3rd dimension.

So when I dashed after this particular varmint who raced round the back of the tree, and so did I, we all assumed he'd go upwards. Amazingly, he didn't but stayed down in the ivy on the ground, where a terrier nose quickly sussed him, and it was all over in a couple of squeals and a shake, before Dad had realised what was up and had time to react. Haggis came and bounced, and Megan rushed up and sniffed, but I had already claimed the kill.

Not so brave last night though, as the funfair came to town and the owner/manager put on an impressive firework display. Megan is completely chilled to fireworks, and Haggis un-afraid - he shouts at them to get out of his air-space. Me though - I'm not so sure. I cowered behind Dad's legs and when he picked me up, I watched, but my little bod was a-shivering and my tail was down.

Today, looks like a bit of a day off for chilling out and lying in the sun, recovering from all that huntin', shoot'n', root'n' toot'n'.

Oh, and did I also mention that I killed a Chanel compact. Took some doing. Had to bite through plastic and a glass mirror.... but a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

White Death
Deefer

Remember remember

Haggis started it! Awake and scratching all night. "Company" they call it round here, so now Dad's been off to the vets and come back with some Frontline. Dad's done we three dogs already, but the cats are a 2-man job, plus "we" have to do Mississippi first, so she doesn't see Felix getting done and get all upset (I mean, as in "upset wetly all down the front of Mum's Chanel jacket"). Their time is to come, but Mum's not home yet.

Meanwhile, despite the fact that we've had fireworks going off all over the weekend, tonight is yer' actual Guy Fawkes, so we can expect a good bit of sporadic crackling, flashing and banging.

A card comes from the vet, through the post, especially for me. I have no idea at all what "annual inocculations" means but it sounds technical and fun. I heard Meggie say to Haggis "Act nat'ral, say nuttin' ". I'm booked in Thursday at 5pm. I'll tell you all about it when I get back

Deefer

Woof, woof, Woof, WOOF, WOOF!

Woof, woof, Woof, WOOF, WOOF! - Haggis repelling all boarders of a fireworky nature, attempting to enter our air-space. The Nerve! How dare they!? He races outside and shouts them into submission. Megan joins him sometimes for a half-hearted "Ruff" but there's not much passion there. Me, I tend to protect the rear flank from a strategic position on Dad's lap.

Lovely walk round Reculver this morning. Mum had the "proper car", so we were in the 2CV. It was a lovely warm sunny morning with a gentle breeze blowing, so we did our whole usual loop. From Reculver towers we head Eastwards onto the sea wall, but cut inland (south) "behind" the oyster farm, and along the raised bank to the railway line. Then we head east along the railway till we meet a crossing point plus a north-south path that takes us back to the seawall just where there are some lagoons. Here we drop down onto the beach for a bit of a paddle, before heading back westwards to the towers and the carpark.

We meet a very handsome, newly clipped westie boy called Finlay, plus a "grumpy old git" (the owners words) spaniel who has to stay muzzled and on the lead. The explanation for his (Finlay's) name involved him coming from Romford but we didn't catch that. Perhaps there is a place called Finlay in Essex?

In the afternoon, I've been helping Dad shred all the apple, vibernum, quince and plum clippings. My help seems to involve mainly watching the output chute end to see if anything exciting, or edible should emerge. I promise you, it doesn't, but it's better than being stuck indoors.

Deefer