It's No Good

A nice shot of Megan standing guard over the spot where she'd buried the latest raw-bone when we were visted by Asbo at the weekend. We're not very subtle, we dogs, so we stand where we "never stand" in the garden for any other reason, and it's obvious (apparently) to humans where we've buried the bone, even though we try to look nonchalant

And it's no good Dad slipping off to Citroen Car Club, and pretending it's all innocent car people. We could smell the new Labradoodle Pippa, of the old Austin-Seven restoring couple Dick and Molly. 6 months old and full of puppy bounce, she had the body of a golden lab, but the longer snout of the poodle, and starting to get the rougher poodle coat. She fell in love with Dad and tried to stick her tongue down his ear, much to the amusement of the rest of the pub.

Nice walk in the Rec tonight, and much throwing and retrieving of the yellow frisbee, plus we met up with westies Misha and Jack, of Mick-the-Chammy fame. We love those dogs and much gossip is exchanged before we are dragged off in separate directions. Dad nearly wins 4-nil (instead of 3-3) when Misha decides to come home with us, and only Jack follows Mick home!

Deefs

Crystal Palace Colours

What a change from yesterday - it's tanking down and blowing a gale, so we don't get a walk first thing. Dad is out most of the day playing with the Sailing Barge Cambria, getting filthy and soaking wet all morning, then filthy and drying out for the afternoon. When he comes in Mum makes him strip to the jocks before he's allowed in the door. (OK, not quite, but you get the picture).

Warm and dry again, and coffee'd up, he's fit to give us a walk, so we head for the Rec armed with my yellow frisbee. We straight away meet up with a Springer "we've" known since he and Haggis we're pups (Barney-Boy), plus the smart westies of Mick the Window Cleaner, Misha and Jack, today replendent in their claret and blue new coats.

"Westham" colours? we ask. No no no... says Mick, Crystal Palace. What Dad knows about footie can be written in capitals on the back of a postage stamp BUT (he claims) would include this one fact because when he was at Junior School (Elphinstone Road, in Hastings, in case you ask) his school colours were claret and (pale) blue, so, to a man, his fellow school-kiddies either supported Westham or the Palace. Mind you (he says) it was the 60's and according to Dad, Westham made up "half the England team". Shows how much he knows.....

Under their coats, Misha and Jack are (as always) bright white and spotlessly clean. We go in for a more "lived in" beige colour. Misha is apparently in a coat because she's had bad colitis and has had a big operation at the vets, so is bald down one side. Jack has a coat because Misha has one.

Look after yourselves
Deefer

Isobel

What a dog! Tonight on the Rec we came across a beautiful female mastiff called Isobel. We are told she's not a Bull Mastiff, "just an English Mastiff - not quite as huge as the Bull version". Big enough though, and all soft and soppy at only 14 months old. She was on her way to dog-training classes where she does very well we were told. All three of us dogs, and Dad made a big fuss of her, as she wagged her lazy ol' slow tail and slobbered as only mastiffs know how!

Dad tells me that Meggie went to pup classes - held at the top of Detling Hill and organised by a police dog training guy. The well equipped training set-up included a fenced off field with gate, where you could let dogs off leads without any risk of them disappearing over the horizon. No sweat. Megan was, allegedly, a little star - top of the class for her sits, downs, long-downs, long-distance stays and then racing back to Dad on the command "come!". Teacher's pet

Till they left the field!

Once out of the gate all Dad's pride in his well behaved pup evapourated as Megan refused all instructions with a look that said quite clearly.. "Oy! No way! We do all "that" in there; not out here! Schools' out as far as I'm concerned!"

Also in the Rec we met Window Cleaner Mick's pair of westies, Misha and Jack. As usual putting us to shame with their immaculate Daz-white coats and neat trims. We have a theory that he cleans them with his window cleaner stuff, or maybe uses them as a chammy, or a squeegy!

Deefs

Eddie, Freddy, Jack 'n' 'Arry

Another nice walk today in the warm breezy sunshine - we go down to the creek, then through the boat yard. En route we meet our mates, the Jack Russells Eddie and Freddy, and aged Doberman Jack. Poor Jack is showing his age now. As we westies chat with E+F, Jack goes off for a sit-down. Unfortunately, says his Mum, he can no longer get up by himself from his sit-downs, so when we've done, someone has to lift his back end into the standing position before he can continue

But he's a proud dog, and one with an interesting history, say Meg and Haggis. He was the star of a newspaper story long ago, where he was involved in the rescue of his Mum who had broken a leg falling over out in the fields beyond the allotments. Clever, brave boy. I think the air-ambulance had to be called in the end, she was so far off the beaten track.

In the boat yard we come upon collie-cross, boatyard dog 'Arry. We all think that is actually his name, as no-one has ever heard it pronounced with an "H", but it could just be the easy talk of boatyard folk!

The weekend continues in similar vein, Mum chugging on with the quince jam (which involves a series of boil-ups and then strains through muslin bags hanging from the window pole across the bay window), and shopping, Dad going in search of camping stuff (a good time of year, he says as everything's reduced!), and then up to the allotment for some digging. There's someone or other around at home all day. That's the way we like it.

Look after yourselves
Deefer

Misha and Jack

It's hot hot hot. Again. Yesterday, we hear, London made 33 degrees C. We get walked later in the evening. We meet, on the Rec, Misha and Jack, the westies of "The Window Cleaner". They are similar ages to Meg and the H and the four have been friends for ever. We always draw smiles and comments when all 4 (now 5) westies are charging about; sometimes it's even more, when various other westies join us

Tonight's walk is the two-bridges loop and , no, I still haven't got used to the short bridge's wobbles and vibrations. I still slink across all low-bellied and droop-eared. My tail is down as I scurry across, anxious to get to the relatively stable stairway at the far end.

Well, we thought we'd got away with the bath and that the humans had forgotten the Frontline. But, no, they got us tonight - all 5 animals rounded up and sprayed. They do Missi first because she gets in such a tizz seeing anyone else go first, it's easier to take her by surprise and get her over with. We dogs though, know that there is a payback - there are rules. One rule says that any brushing, grooming, cutting, buzzing or in any way interfering with our coats, results in a dog treat each. Tonight's treat was a chunk of raw chicken-spine, Dad scissor'd off a chook when spatch-cocking it.

Almost worth being Frontlined.

Deefs