Climbing Feet, Climbing Feat

Mum and Dad are getting used to the fact that they have a climbing dog about the place, achieving remarkable feats of climbing which neither Capt. Haggis nor The Lady Megan ever tried. Tonight Dad was just back from a post-work, post-walk session up at the allotment (He's enjoying the late evenings now we're on BST, and the warm dry digging weather; Makes a nice change. says he) and was in the kitchen briefly to make a coffee. He came back to find me on the dining room table, just about to explore a re-sealable sachet of dog-sweets. He's sussed that I can sprong onto the chairs from the floor, and from there onto the table top

They've already got used to seeing me on the patio table - even quite young I could leap from the flower bed onto the shelf beneath the table, from there to the chair and from there to the table top. Piece of cake. Climbing Westies. A new breed? Mind you, both real-Mum (Mollie) and real-Dad (Hector) are great ones for lying along the backs of sofas, and all 3 of us kids must have that in our blood (or we saw it enough times when we were pups and it stayed in our heads).

Archie now always joins Moll+Hector along the back of the sofa, looking out of the big living room window, it's my favourite place when the humans are sat watching TV, and (we learned a couple of days back) that it is also Ellie's favourite perch, especially as her new-Dad loves eating his supper sitting on the sofa. He is forever battling off Ellie, who sneaks round the back of his neck and sneaks a wet nose round his collar, past his ear and onwards to try to intercept food en route from plate to mouth....

Think I'd probably die if I tried that. Discretion is the better part of cowardice

Deefs