...and the rest

..and there are the rest of the camping dogs

Scooter the Staffie cross who is always resplendent in a pink neck-scarf. She's a brindled colour and fairly fast, and if you recall the last camp I plagued her for ever, till her (very long) patience eventually ran out and she "GRAFFF!" -ed at me and scared me half to death. Everyone said I deserved it.

Badger the ummmm mongrel (I guess) - vaguely black, tan and white, vaguely collie shaped. Looks nothing like a badger anyway, although his Dad assured us he did when he was small. I guess Haggis looks nothing like a haggis either...

Janie, our old friend the ex-courser brindled greyhound who is as gentle as they come and has a long whippy tail that cuts you in half when it wags.

And finally a visiting scruff from Yorkshire called Kaira

Meanwhile, tonight, back at the Rec we come across old chum Luca the Lurcher (see 25th Oct and 17th Jan) - he has been in the wars and is only now allowed out again to run around, still with bright pink, naked scar showing the extent of his horrific injury. Running about in the scrubgrass and saltmarsh down by the Creek at his usual crazy speed, he must have hit something sharp hard front-on, maybe a bit of glass or metal, or other flotsam.

The sharp object sliced clean through his "armpit" muscles (pecs I guess) and opened up a great 6 inch chunk of chest wall, luckily not penetrating his rib cage or going through any big arteries or the neck, oesophagus, windpipe etc. He was in big trouble and in shock as he staggered back to his Mum, who grabbed him up and raced him to the nearest vet. There he was stapled up and dosed with antibiotics as an emergency treatment.

Next day he was taken to our own excellent vet, John for proper patching up and treatment. That was 6 weeks ago and only now is he allowed out to run around in a limited way. Limited for a lurcher of course, seems to mean only 25mph, not 50. He's missed the social life, though, what with being confined to house-rest, so he was delighted to see us all and we were a mad pash of wagging tails and grinning faces.

Good to see him back in circulation
Go Luca

Deefs

Afghan Racing

Not much of Crufts got us animated this year (must be getting blase), but one bit that made us sit up, whistle, jump off the settee and crowd the screen, was some footage of a bit of just-for-fun racing of Afghan Hounds. Fully shampoo'd and groomed out they were all flowing hair and waves of colour as they ran towards the camera, played back in slo-mo.

They looked to be loving it, and the ones whose turn it was just to watch were up on their hind legs at the spectator fence yipping with excitement as first the "hare" and then the dogs shot by. You knew they were having a whale, when the "out-takes" at the end had the dogs leppin' off the track, over the barriers, or turning round in mid race to run the other way

Can we do some of that, Dad?

We were reminded of that when Dad was commenting on how Janie, they brindled greyhound in Dad's 2CV club pub meet last night spent all night flaked out on her side. Not that long ago she was a restless thing , never relaxing, always moving from person to person asking for a fuss, or crisps and peanuts (never getting any - Pete and Josie are very strict about that, but it didn't stop her hoping). Now she's that much more grown up, she's quite the mature, sober-minded lady. No trouble in a pub

Deefer

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