Does your Mum know you're out?

Meggie is still a bit painful on that foot where the vet, suspecting it was a growth, sliced a lumpy chunk out of one of her pads and then cauterised the surface. She can barely put weight on that foot, but looks so hopeful as Dad prepares us for the walk tonight, that she ends up getting a carry under his arm to the Rec, where she can amble about on the grass. Dad suggests none-too-subtly that she is not a slim and sylph-like baggage.

It turns out to be a nice session on the Rec. We meet a tiny tiny Springer called Bonny, whose (also very young) owner says is 10 weeks old. That seems very young to us, and we wonder whether she is fully innocculated (Bonny, not the owner!). Later. grown-up Spinger "LB" shows up and the contrast is amazing, Bonny being not much bigger than LB's head! Bonny, though, is a game little soul, and charges all three of us in that gangling, semi-co-ordinated way that 10 week old pups have.

We also meet old chum collie-cross Ben (him of the white flash chest, and white "peepy toes". He's all distracted by someone who has unwisely brought an on-heat JR bitch to the Rec, and was having to re-think the wisdom of this move. The numpty in charge of that one had never even conceived of the fact that it might be a better plan to walk her somewhere a bit quieter for the 2-3 weeks. Dad and his chums actually wondered whether he (the numpty) knew what "on heat" was. They had to patiently explain things as if to a young child.

One born every minute. Do their Mums know they're out?

Deefer

An elegant young Lady

We have young Em-J (11) with us at present, and Mum has decided that is is a chance (in a rather light hearted way) to train her into a Young Lady. She will taught the finer things in life, says Mum, etiquette, elegant table manners, deportment, how to get in and out of a 2CV (sorry, says Dad, no Maseratis currently on the fleet), how to conduct one's self at restaurants and so on.

A bit like "Gi-gi", says Mum; the 1958 film with Leslie Caron and Maurice Chevallier, although Mum wonders if that colours her the same colour as the Aunt Alicia character (Isabel Jeans) who is rich and sophistimacated on account of acquiring wealth in a dubious "demi-monde" way (look it up - but suffice to say she'd be a "lady of negotiable affection" in Terry Pratchett's books). So of course we have to watch the film, although dogs are persuaded not to join in the chorus of "Ze Night zay invented Champaiiiiiiiigne!".

It's a good day. Megan has been walked a short one in the morning, so Haggis and I are taken out by Dad and Em-J a nice route march all around the long-bridge route. We watch for trains over the bridge parapets, and enjoy the "Night Mail" poem and the train and historic building pictures painted along its panels (all be it most of them are now graffiti'd out of sight).

Back in the Rec the small female "herbert" escapes from the "Elegant Young Lady" persona and has to have a go on the swings, climbing pyramid, grown-up round abouts and a fancy circular rail thing which you try to walk on but which goes backwards as fast as you try to walk forwards. This generates enough challenges for Dad to get a bit bored watching and to strike up a good satisfying game of plastic-bottle throwing with me while we wait for Em-J to get sweaty and tired enough to need a drink and a shower.

Time enough for being Elegant tomorrow, says she, when Mum is taking her off to France for a look at St Omer and a practise of some new found skills in language.

I still think the best French word in her new books is Crapaud (pronounced Crappo) which means "toad"

Marvellous
Deefski

Greenbacks, and all that Jazz

There is an affliction that affects any dog of around 11 inches to the shoulder, who inhabits the Rec, called "Green-back". The dog's fur along its back takes on a powdery green look which can cause concern and consternation among owners.......

....till they spot that the dog is given to running under the Rec's wooden park-benches, which are green with dried algae all over the bottoms of the planks, where not polished by the bums of weary walkers.

We have a good run around in the Rec this morning, Dad having a day off to amuse himself with errands prior to an adventurous weekend (more of that later), chasing a ball, and romping with mainly-white young Staffie bitch "Jazz" (actually Jasmine). Jazz has a very fetching white leather collar with girlie emblems on it, and a pink leather lead. Makes you look twice, on a Staff, where your eye is almost more tuned to expect a macho look.

We pass Mollie the Beagle's house on the walk, and there's Mollie, sparko in the front bay window, oblivious to our passing, the picture of contentment. Wish we had a camera.

Deefski

Sleeping like a dog

Here we all are, kippin' on the bed. We're tired out here from a good chase around on the Rec. Dad's been involved all day in the plant and cake sale run by the local Hort Soc, and then up at the allotments talking to a (potential) bee keeper, who might be installing bee hives at the site.

Very complicated, this bee keeping, apparently - bees need a clear-ish flightpath on leaving the hive while they gain height - a bit like the end of Heathrow's runways - and if you "aim" the hive at heavily used paths, walkways or at anywhere an allotment holder is likely to be working, you interfere with the bees taking off, at your peril.

Naturally, this is all wrapped round with Health and Safety Regs now and failure to observe them can cause claims of negligence when bees "likely to have come from your hive" sting anyone. Also bees don't like vibration, such as caused by passing mowers, so open grass areas which the Management team feel should be mowed, are a no-no. Finally, hives and swarm combined have a value of £3-400, and are subject to both vandalism, and "rustling" if in line of sight from public footpaths. Ah well, Dad says they found between them three or four possible hive locations and pending swarm availability, the man should be able to deliver "our" hive(s) and bees soon.

So we're all tired out, and the H is also a bit out of sorts because "friendly" grey and white greyhound Polly for no apparent reason took exception to Haggis as he mooched below her head, and suddenly snapped at his ear, taking a chuink out of him and causing real blood to flow! Haggis was most put out, as well as surprised. The lady was very apologetic, but it wasn't her fault - they've always got on OK up to now. Polly was obviously having a grumpy day and H got in the way. Only once - he gave her a very wide berth there-after.

Deefski

Melee

With us now getting to be regulars at the 16:30 slot on the Rec, we are starting now to form a bit of a dog club or kindergarten. We amble about and sure enough over comes Smudge and Barney with their "Mum", and then Ben and his "Mum", and maybe Patch, Billy and Bugsy and who ever is about.

Tonight it's warm and still, and various of us have brought our toys, so the humans start lobbing balls, frisbees and squeaky toys in all directions and different ones catch the eye of different dogs at various times, so we end up with a superb friendly melee going on of toys and dogs. At one point Smudge's Mum produces a full sized football, so Smudge and me get involved in a lovely game of dribbling.

We are both, though, not quite used to joint ownership, so if one of us is claiming it the other backs off. Dad is hoping that with practise maybe we'll all play together with the same ball the same way my real-Dad (Hector), Mum (Mollie) and brother (Archie) do, wearing each other out with the dribbling and tackling, scruffing and barging. The best we can do is when Smudge gives up, panting, his long tongue lolling and his ears bright pink with the heat.

Various dogs and owners pass by, sometimes with dog on lead, obviously not quite sociable enough to be let loose, but with the owner looking on longingly, as if wishing they could be part of the fun. One, in particular, a big male Akita called Seuss (as in "The cat in the hat") passes by and our humans exchange good natured banter with the guy, commenting that it'll soon be too warm for Seuss, and asking whether he has a walk-in freezer to sleep in.

We are all bushed

Have a great weekend
Deefski

Tali at 5 months

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

5-4-3-2-1

The Rec again tonight and again we meet shaggy nearly-all-black alsatian, Battersea rescue dog, Lucy. Tonight we only shout at each other for 5 seconds or so before we realise no-one is impressed and we should maybe talk to each other. Yesterday, Dad reckons, that was 6 seconds.

Dad and Lucy's owner now have a theory, that if we all meet up the same time each evening, we might only shout for 4 seconds tomorrow, then 3 on Saturday, then 2, and by Monday we'll be able to greet each other in a reasonably decorous fashion.......

Yeah - right-oh Dad!

Also on the Rec tonight, fit young JR "Bindy", who we like to have a charge about with, but who we haven't seen lately. Another evening for getting muddy then!

Never mind - he obviously still loves us, as some raw pork ribs fall into his shopping on the way home tonight, and we have them for a treat for supper

Look after yourselves. Weekend's comin'

Deefski

...and After

Here we all are again - and look at us now! We are sparkly white, silky, fragrant and clipped to within an inch of our lives. Everyone says we look beautiful and The Groomer, we know, is delighted with the results. We are not so sure - of course, you know that a Westie's natural condition is kind of beige with muck and gruft, and redolent of squirrel sh**e, but we always know we can get back to that some day, and it makes the humans happy.

You have, in order, my head, on the frozen Rec', Megan's head, reclining on a brown cushion at the Groomer's (and the Guitarist's) house, where we all had supper last night), the three of us (l-r Meggie, me and the H) on the Groomer's sofa, with one of their Norfolks, (our friend Mollie) completing the line-up. Then, finally, there's the H, also stretched out on the furniture.

That frozen walk on the Rec in the morning was just to give Megan a breath of fresh air. With Haggis clipped off, Mum was worried to note that his usual skinny frame and definite waist and "cut" behind the ribs, seems to have submerged under a slightly portly layer of fat. In short, she described him as a bit of a porker. Nothing for it, then but to push on with these planned "leave Meggie behind" walks. So today we are loaded in to car and buzzed off to Reculver, for one of Dad's route-marches. Haggis feels much better for that, thanks - he's now asleep. The frozen ground is good for keeping westies clean, but the wind don't 'alf cut through your clipped fur!

Brrrrr

Deefer

Early Rec Santa

Almost there. Dad has finished work and come home. Presents are wrapped, and I have reason to beleive there may be something in there for us. Mum has nipped out for a last minute item which we almost failed on.... pssstt.... will tell you after! We are walked (and in fact we struck lucky in the "Rec" where an early Santa left me a nearly new bright pink stipply ball. Fickle bird that I am , this is the new fave toy. I had a great game with Haggis who had his evil eye on it, running around to keep him from getting it, while he used all his low cunning (hah!) to distract me)

The tree lights are lit, there's Christmas music on the radio and I heard a rumour that the wine consumption may start soon.

Look after yourselves, and I hope you all have the Christmas you have looked forward to.

Deefski

Molly the Rottweiler

There we were, tired out from a good old session of chasing the yellow frisbee tonight and just on our way home, when we came upon my sister, Ellie, whose Mum is just back from Mexico. Exciting enough, but they'd just met up with "Mum's" daughter-in-law and grandson, who were out with 6 month old Rottie, Molly.

What a soppy dog! Only half grown and all soft and gangly, unco-ordinated and clumsy, like all young dogs are when their limbs are growing faster than their sense of how big they are. This called for an all in chase about and "give-as-good-as-you-get" bundle. Dad was delighted. Sometimes, he says, when we sisters get together, Ellie tends to do the submissive and lets me get away with beating the living daylights out of her, and sometimes (he also alleges) I have been bounced at by an unco-ordinated pup and have run off squealing like a stuck pig, doing my "drama queen" bit. It's gonna KILL me!!!!

Not this time. Balance seems to have been suddenly restored (maybe I've been practising on Rags). Ellie, Molly and I (plus Haggis while his tired old-boy strength holds out) run and chase and bark and wrestle as equals, no-one getting the better of any other, and no-one allowing anyone the peace to lie down and rest, racing in big figure-of-eight patterns, barging occasionally into human legs (mainly Molly there!), and carrying on when joined by Dad's allotment chum Stephanie, and her black collie cross Monty, and brown non-descript terrier Charlie. That just seemed to give us a new lease of life.

Tired? We've all collapsed back here after our supper, and we are rather hoping Dad will settle down with the TV and not move all evening.

Deefski

Chasing Cars

A couple of final Duncombe shots just to box that off. Nice one of the sun coming up over the house Saturday morning and Megan doing her "Can I get in the car now because you'll want to be going home today won't you...." look

A nice one of me, exhausted, crashed out on a camping bag, and a nice one of Megan enjoying the back home warm and dry, and Mum's luvverly vase of lilies.

Bank Holiday this morning, so Dad's in work briefly but gets all afternoon off and takes us to the Rec. here. a couple of lads have parked a humungous Japanese 4x4 (one of those crew-cab silver Isuzu Warrior type ones). They are setting up a small replica of same - a £400 (we asked) radio controlled toy one, with high revvin', nitro-fuelled, glow plug engine which buzzes like a demented wasp and races along at what looks like about 45 mph. Amazing miniaturised technology - long-travel springs and dampers, automatic 2-speed gearbox etc.

Not many people about , so the guys were able to really gun it round the Rec in a series of sweeping figure-8's and (luckily) knew how to control it so they could whizz past reasonably close to us out walking (slowing down as they approached, growling past, accelerating away). This was too much like temptation for me, and for a young female Staffie called Missie, so we charged after it in all directions. It was too fast for us though, so we'd soon give up and wait for it to come back past.

Now there's a thing (said Dad) - First impressions - owner of the Staffie was one of those "yoofs" you'd sneer sideways at (or you would if you were as prejudiced as Dad!) - baggy trousers, shirt hanging out, walking his Staffie (!) at midday with a half-finished can of Special Brew in his hand all the way round. They got talking about the toy car, and then dogs, and he turned out to be a nice bloke - intelligent, very knowledge-able about Staffies, he'd got her for quite a lot of money from an abuser - Missie had cigarette burns on her where the "bad people" had tried to cure her of being "vicious".

She has not a "mean bone in her body" and is now the picture of health - a slightly built (she'd been starved while tiny) bouncing playful girl, very gentle with we three westies. He'd thought of breeding from her and had had an offer of a "good stud dog" but had been concerned at her tiny size and health and had decided against it. "Some people keep on having litters time after time, but it's not fair on the dog, is it?".

Favourably impressed - gives you hope, said Dad (rather sheepishly)

Deefer

Ruby Ruby Rubyrubyruby!

Apologies to the Kaiser Chiefs.

Tanking it down in Kent today but had let up by the time we got our walk. Dad made us take the skanky old deflated soccer ball back to the Rec. We kicked it around for a while but then gave it away to some kids, when we were all distracted by.....

Tiny 5 month old mini-Dachshund pup "Ruby" and "best mate" big brown labrador Chewy. Size contrast or what? The Dachsy was no more than a foot long and definitely a contender for Dad's cute-dog-wish-I'd-brought-me-camera-along prize for January 2008. Lovely too to see these two together, with big old Chewy very attentive to little red-haired Ruby.

Well, attentive up to the point that he realised that we three westies were no threat and anyway there was an old split tennis ball lying around that Dad was willing to throw huge distances such as could not be managed by the 2 ladies walking these dogs (My Hero!)

Then on the way home, extra treat - we meet on the pavement a brown mongrel being walked with a genuine Husky, one blue eye, one brown. Right fur for this weather.

Yee hah! Snow on the forecast
Deefer

Stunt Kite

We have that "all is safely gathered in" feeling, having just got back in from a good romp on the Rec, the cats and us fed, fire cleared and laid, coffee made and other human chores all accomplished.

The Rec was chocka with dog walkers and children. We met shiny black collie cross "Ben" with the white toes, white staffie "Amy" out with long haired Chihuahua "Louey" as well as old Jack Russell Patch.

Joy of joys, there was a couple out there playing with a day-glo pink stunt kite, so we were able to do our charge around barking up at it as it whizzed overhead cabaret and amuse the crouds. We soon gethered quite an audience and the kite man was enjoying showing off his skills, whooshing the kite low over our heads to make us run about.

Exhausted, we are!

Deefs

Football

At last, a nice warm sunny day and Dad's home nice and early, so we can go a good walk to the Rec, armed with yellow frisbee which keeps me amused for a while... until I discover.... enormous adult sized, semi deflated football! What a treat. It is just deflated enough for me to pinch up enough of a "side" to grab it with my teeth and carry it.

I can not really lift it but I struggle to wrestle it around and get all protective over it. We play for a while with Bindy, but I won't let her anywhere near it. Then comes the time to get it home. I must carry it all the way - the only bit I can't manage is jumping down the low wall onto the pavement. Here I stop and drop it, and look hopefully up at Dad. "Ah!", he says, "You're gonna let me near it now you need help, are you?"

No need for that sarcasm, I thought. Anyway, he drops it down the drop, and I grab it again and strut off down the pavement. I brought it all the way home. Mum will be over-joyed! So proud!

Deefs

Le Petit Marseillais

Windy and spitting rain. Both Mum and Dad have "missions" today, so the alarm goes off at 8 am and we're up and running, being walked at speed to get it out of our systems. Just a sop to the human consciences, because they're going to abandon us all day.

Still, better not complain, as there is talk of us needing another shampooing, and they have run out of the stuff with the westie on the front. It might end up being "Le Petit Marsaillais" aux extraits naturels d'orange et de capucine. Scary. Mind you, Dad used it tonight and doesn't smell too much like a tart's boudoir. "Capucine" as any fule no, is "nasturtium" in English

So... off went Dad in his overalls to work with his cronies on Mademoiselle, their project 2CV, and off went slimmed down Mum on that most pleasurable of trips, the shopping for "next-size-down" clothes.

Good weekend
Deefer

Bugsy

Tonight we're at the Rec, just missing a possible entertainment with a stunt-kite. We all love those things, and this was a big one - about 6 foot by 4. Sometimes on 2CV camp the guys get them out and buzz them around swooping low over us with the strings whirring menacingly in the wind, and we three westies charge about barking up at the sky trying to attack the kite. But sadly, as we got to the rec at about 4pm, it was just getting dark and the "pilot" decided to land it and put it away

We (I) chased the yellow frisbee instead, working our way up to the top of the Rec, where we nipped down between the tennis courts and the high bank. I heard someone at the top of the bank and raced up there woofing at a possible dog. I then turned tail and ran back down as fast as I could squealing in panic when an alsatian decided he'd take again' lil' white doggies charging up at him. He never got withing 3 feet, but you'd never know from the racket I was making, and Dad saying "Well - you started it!" before the 2 men pee'd themselves laughing! The nerve!

We ended up meeting Bugsy, a bichon who is often there. Dad likes chatting to Bugsy's Dad, but Bugs can be a bit of a yapper, especially when being "ignored" by his Dad, so it never goes on too long, and we were soon back to the frisbee throwing.

Have a good weekend
Deefs

Luca the Lurcher

We met another nice dog tonight - Luca the Lurcher. Like all lurchers he's a hound crossed with a collie-type beastie - looks like his hound might be a greyhound, but his "collie" is something much more black-and-tan and hard coated. Enyway, he's full of beans and his Mum was launching a ball as far as she could with one of those 2 foot long springy, spoon-ended launchers and he was flying! She said that if she just threw the ball with her arm, he was there, drinking a cup of tea, feet up, watching TV, catching up on the gossip by the time the ball got there

We had the pleasure of Dad's company yesterday on a day off. coming and going all day - 2 walks, the allotment and an "old git's lie-down" in the afternoon (we love that. The humans crash out on the sofa and we all pile up all around them (cats too sometimes) while they catch a siesta). Quality time - sleepin' in a heap!

At one stage, mind, Dad took off with the 2CV and the good camera, to try (some more) to get a good pic of a Fallow deer in the forest. It's the rut, for those beasties so it's the best time to get deer all gathered together. But unlike at the weekend when it was bright sunshine, the forest had descended once more into drizzly cloudiness, so the chance of getting good pics of anything moving deep in the birch-bits where the rutting stands are, was nil (he said).

Frustratingly, he tells us, no deer would stroll out into the brighter clearings. Even worse, when he was fed up, relaxed, non-stealth mode, strolling home, crunching carelessly through the fallen leaves, he alsmost tripped over a resting buck - proababaly one exhausted by being Master-Buck for a while and taking a lie down. Dad saw movement just in front of him, realised he was looking at an antler, just about had time to think - "Oh dear! (pardon the pun) - a dead or injured one!", when the deer was up and spronging away. Dad raised the camera and fired off two shots but still had the auto-focus off and just got indistinct blurs. (AF no good among the trees - gets too confused and tries to auto-focus on branches this side of the deer).

So it's STILL Dad's ambition to get a good pic of Fallow deer from Challock in Challock

These Humans need something to aim at, I think

Deefer

Poor little Gigot

It's the weekend, so the humans are flying about everywhere. Dad runs a "deer walk" in Challock Forest, where it's the rut for the 200 or so fallow deer in there. Westies, faced with a fallow deer tend to give chase, yipping in frustration as they fail to keep up, so we are grounded for this one and dad goes off on his own.

The walkers have a great time - "Probably the best Deer Walk ever!" enthuses dad when he gets back. Apparently, being a small group they were able to get some nice close long sightings, and listen to the big old bucks roaring out their challenges. At one point they's left the immediate area of the rutting stand and moved off to near some dense young chestnut coppice, when up one of the cleared strips they saw a young person (not one of their group) stroll through.

This person (probably completely un-awares) had worried all the deer off the stand, and into the chestnut. Suddenly one big full-grown buck with huge, fully palmated antlers came trotting out of the chestnut 20 feet from Dad's group, more concerned with avoiding the person, than looking in front of him. He spotted Dad's group and stopped, then turned with great dignity, antlers back, nose high, high-stepping front feet, and trotted off back into the chestnut. Dad says the whole group had stopped breathing at that stage. Awesome!

Mum and Dad have also been out and about shopping (mmm - dog treats!), and then came back and we got our walk, off to the Rec for a game of plastic bottle. Sometimes we play "plastic bottle" (Dad throwing or kicking, me chasing and nailing, then running around with bottle in ever increasing state of chewed, squashed-ness).

Sometimes we play "chase the seagull from miles away" - this involves me in full-bore, head down, gallop from good distances, bearing down on seagulls on the football pitches. Sometimes the 2 games get confused and I've still got the bottle ("Powerade" sports drink tonight) wideways in my mouth when a seagull needs chasing. The look on the gull's face as a madly charging juice bottle comes racing towards it with legs going like pistons underneath and a tail sticking up behind, is priceless

We meet "Gigot", a small Bedlington out with his new Mum and Dad, his new stable-mates a brown lab and a small long haired beastie. Poor Gigot is in a sorry state, having been rescued just 3 weeks ago from what sounds like a house of horrors. 3 weeks ago he was one of nine Bedlingtons kept by some awful bloke - all nine dogs were tangled fur, a mass of sores from parasite bites and swollen red feet from walking in their own excrement and wee.

They were cringing from the old owner, so that new-Mum had to take the dog straight out to the car while the new Dad did the paperwork "else I'd have killed the bloke", she said. Gigot's tail is almost bald near the base and his fur gives way to scabby patches here and there. They were (compulsorily) re-homed, one ending up with this family.

Gigot is now all trimmed and cleaned up, his poor feet (although still a bit pink) are nearly back to normal, and he's under the vet and anti-biotics for his sores and skin lesions. He's a gentle soul though and is slowly getting used to the fact that some men will treat him properly.

We dogs (we're quiet and careful anyway near any unknown dog - Dad seems to be very proud of us being on our "best behaviour" for Gigot, understanding that he needs gently socialising.) My Dad crouches and talks to him gently, and extends a hand to be sniffed. After a while Gigot accepts a bit of a fuss round the face and then comes right in close to Dad to be petted gently. His new Mum and Dad are almost moved to tears to see him being so "brave" and making such good progress. When they first got him he was very upset and scared at any unknown people or dogs.

We'll look out for you, Gigot - you are among friends. "Gigot", by the way, comes from the fact that Bedlingtons look very lamb-like when they are fully furred up and clean.

Bless
Deefer

Tiny Milly and Nelson

We have now met what must be tiniest Westie ever. At 18 months old she is called Milly, and everyone, without fail, assumes she is a pup. She looks like a Westie, but is about two thirds the size of me, and I am about two thirds the size of Meggie. She has got to be as small as some of those little Yorkies you see, or even a Papillon. Feisty little thing though, at least on the lead. Might be more sociable off the lead, but the human is a bit wary of letting her off.

But tonight, my heart has been stolen away, by Jack Russell, "Nelson". At 2 years he is the same as me in all important respects - size, speed, manouvre-ability, strength, energy, playfulness. We met in the Rec tonight and bundled, ran, swerved, chased, wrestled, tumbled and played for ages. Megan did her usual amble about taking little notice (maybe bemused?), and Haggis joined in some of the time, but mainly to pounce on me from behind and knock me off balance, just as I was engaging Nelson from the front.

Exhaustion was therefore doled out as per Marxism - to each according to their need. Megan got a nice gentle (old girls) walk. Haggis was semi exhausted, as befits a middle aged chap, and I was run off my feet, as befits a young hooligan. It was fantastic, and we all hope to meet Nelson again (including Dad and Nelson's "Mum", who both got their dogs mightily exercised for the expense of very little effort on their parts which made, they said, a nice change!)

Extremely Tired
Deefer

ECHO Echo echo...

Accoustically challenged tonight on the walk. The Town Carnival is coming up and a funfair has started to assemble on the Rec. They take up about a quarter of it. One of the rides is a big lorry, which unravels into a big flat tall "wall" against which a ride "boat" will eventually do its stuff. It's called the Terminator. It's positioned to be seen from the diagonal corner of the Rec, just where we come and go from.

So I'm chasing around with Haggis towards the end of our walk, and I "yaff!" at him. Behind me an echoing "yaff" comes. YAP! .. yap! Naturally, I am taken by surprise at this and snap my head round to look, but there's nothing there - only the fair ground. I go back to chasing Haggis .... YAP.... yap (comes the reply). I'm annoyed now at the challenger, so for a while, me and the unseen "other dog" go YAP yap YAP yap YAP yap, much to the amusement of Dad and a few onlookers.

Could have told me about echoes off flat surfaces. Meanies!

Treat tonight - roast lamb bones from the neighbours. As usual we end up with cleaned (inside and out) tubes of bone shank, with all ends and internal marrow removed, like something you'd see in the dry ol' desert sun in a cowboy movie.

Deefer