The North Wind Shall Blow

...well, the North West one, maybe. Suffice to say the wind has swung round to the North and is bitterly cold. After a run of mild evenings and still-ish nights , the temperature has plummeted to 3 degrees and it's perishing. Luckily we have a coal fire laid that Dad can just put a match to.

He was home at a sensible time for once, so we all converged on the Rec while there was still plenty of light, and we knew lots of other dog walkers would be about. These short evenings compress everybody into the same short hour, after work and before it's dark.

Everybody was about - we saw young male westie, Magic, red setter Bailey, an unknown Staffie came racing over to say Hi, and we met two new kids on the block. A small red spaniel (King Charles?) called Rua (which we are told is Irish for "red"), and a gorgeous blond young Goldie called Angus.

I also had a major charge about after the yellow frisbee-ring, looking a bit the worse for wear by now, but still (just) a complete ring, so throw-able. Now we're "home and hosed", fed and chilling out round the fire.

Have a great weekend, one and all.
Deefer

Millie, Mollie, Mandy

We've mentioned before that Ellie is pretty much a self cleaning dog. Even after falling in the lake at Leybourne on Sunday, and then getting grimed up with dust on the rest of the walk she was, as predicted, almost immaculate again by the time she got back to the car. Unlike those of us doomed to go through life a kind of grubby squirrel-poo beigey colour, my Sis seems to have that kind of fur that sheds dirt as she dries.

Her Mum says that put her down wet and muddy with a clean dry towel, and by dint of rummaging around for half an hour, you will come away with a clean white dry dog, and a grubby wet muddy towel.

But tonight she is exceeding even her high standards! She's been groomed properly by a local outfit called Dapper Dogs. (Sorry, can't give you a link - this is a very well used name and there are dozens of Dapper dogs websites all round the world, none of which probably have anything to do with these guys). She is immaculate white, trimmed and spruced and looks like a million dollars. She's like your too-perfect big sis when you were still an ungainly adolescent, who got all the boyfriends chasing after her. She could be a Show Dog - Crufts people watch out!

Actually it's a good day all round for westies on the Rec. Not only do we meet Ellie on our way down, but on the Rec we meet Barney out with his Mum ( "I'm sure one of your dogs is called Deefer, but I can never remember which one, so I just think of them as "Millie, Mollie, Mandy"" - When Mum hears of this, she decides Haggis better be "Molly", because he could be "Molyneux") and we also meet up with Magic ("Madge" rather confusingly).

And you gotta love Megan, who saunters around like Dowager-Duchess of Kent out for a promenade (I'm very old you know, and I have to take it easy), until (taraaa) she meets a glossy black young-man labrador when she suddenly comes over all flirty, bouncing on her front feet, flashing her eyelashes and coming over all playful, kittenish and coy. Outrageous Flirt!

Deefski

Madge is a bloke

We've mentionned before, I'm sure, a westie we met in the Rec, who was, then quite a young pup. We met again the other day, and had quite a nice run around. The owner was slightly anxious in case "Madge" got a bit too excited and killed us three, but there was no danger and we charged about giving as good as we were getting. Dad spotted that "Madge" appeared to have bits undernieth not appropriate to a dog named "Madge". "Madge?" he quizzed the owner. "Umm.... it's short for 'Majic' but it does confuse people!" she said

The Kentish Hoppers 2CV group are back up to their camping tricks, but it's windy and showery and not at all good camping weather. Dad (and Megan), still a bit fed up with wet windy camping after Yorkshire, is not at all sure we will pitch this time - we may wuss out and just do day-visit.

Today, anyway, we had to get the 2CV round to 2CV-Llew's to drop the fuel tank out and cure the sucking-air leak. Excellent opportunity for we dogs to meet up with tea-drinking, beer-slurping Jack Russell, "Rosie", and to chase about Llew's out-buildings and old abandonned commercial greenhouses looking for rats

From there we headed for the camp site, there to help the guys erect the big party-tent marquee, rig up power cabling and set out safety notices and what not. Excellent opportunity for me, as usual, to get sump oil all up my back, horse poo well smeared into my chin, cheeks, neck and chest, and that general camping-westie grubbiness. Unfortunately, because we are not pitching tonight, when Dad comes home for supper, I get bathed back to innocent whiteness. Mum will never know!

...and Dad's friend Shirley, who sadly lost her Westie "Penny" a good year ago now, is getting a new pup - picked it up last night. Always intending this to be another westie, they fell in love with a cute westie x sheltie cross, which "looks a bit like a chav westie, in a pale biscuitty brown". (So says Shirley). We have yet to see any pics of this dog, which is named "Poppy", but Poppy, if you're collected yet and now "with us" we look forward to meeting you.

There's always tomorrow
Deefski.

How do you manage three?

All warm again, but fairly wet. Dad home fairly late, but armed with a surprise - a yellow tough-plastic frisbee, like the one I tried to half-inch off Bindy. But this one's mine! It's excellent - Dad throws it edge-ways so it rolls and rolls, gradually curving in more and more as it slows down and leans over. And again... and again... and again

All three of us thoroughly approve of this. I get to run myself ragged, and come home panting like a marathon runner, while Haggis gets a night off from being persecuted by me chasing him about and launching "Kato" attacks on him ("Not NOW, Kato!"). Megan gets to mooch about in a casual manner, as befits a Dowager Duchess of advancing years

On the Rec we meet a young father returning from the kiddie's play furniture with 2 tots (maybe 18 months and 3?) and a very smartly groomed 5 year old bitch westie called Magic (which seems to get shortened to "Madge" which I'm sure can't be right!). The father asks our Dad "How do you manage three?" as Magic runs in circles chased by me and derailed occasionally by Haggis. Unseen, the oldest tot lep's out of the push chair and takes off across the grass. "A bit easier than you manage three where only one is a dog", says Dad. The father sees where our Dad's pointing and laughs.. "Oy! How did you get out of there?". Child is safely retrieved and strapped more successfully into push chair

Deefer