Hector and the Hedgehog

Asbo is grounded for crimes against Mississippi - the cat, not the US State. She (Missi) suffered no lasting damage. It was noisy but not damaging, and we three westies are not popular for our part in it, which was to gather round like school kids in the playground yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight! .... Gooooo-orn my son!" etc

Meanwhile, Hector (Real Dad) has amazed my first human family by carrying indoors a rolled up hedgehog, large as life and twice as natural (twice as flea and mite infested too!). Arghhhh! Humans leppin' about and panicking in all directions.... "Get it out, the filthy thing!" etc.

Now, I don't want to upset the sensibilities of hedgehog sympathisers but any realistic hedgehog fancier will accept that they are not the most vermin free creatures (how do you groom and scratch yourself when you are covered in spines?) - indeed, we have read somewhere that the population of "parasites" is actually a symbiotic thing, the wee beasties cleaning the skin layer rather like pilot fish on a shark.

What ever, a fed up hedgehog is not the thing you want uncurling on the shag-pile and taking off at a trot for the nearest dark indoor corner.

More to the point, given that hedgehogs are indeed well covered in spines, how does a westie pick one up and carry it indoors without getting a lacerated mouth?

That one, you'll have to ask me Dad. He's just Magic!

Deefs

Ragworth (Asbo)

Here he is - my Hero, Rags. Allegedly a pedigree Lakeland/ Patterdale terrier, he is a fine (cough) handsome chap (splutter); suave, debonair, well groomed, not a hair out of place etc . OK in this one his chops are stylishly peppered with duckweed from his latest splosh about in the top pond. When he leapt out and headed for the terrace on which all the humans were dozing in the afternoon sun, there were cries of "Don't shake near me!" and "Arghhhh! Geddaway you filthy beast!" , and I'm sure I heard Dad yell "Don't let him in the house!" Gotta love him

Today is our town's Classic Car and Motorbike Show so our walk had to go up through town so Dad could see all the shiny veteran transport. Returning via the park I had a nice romp about with a smoky-grey Alsatian pup called Star (4 months)

And Dad tells me he's been up the allotment and finished off "his Autumn digging". Not behind or anything, are you dad?

Have a good Sunday
Deefs

The Cooler King

Today we are inspired by Steve McQueen's character in The Great Escape film and I expect all readers to be humming or whistling that well known theme tune "Doo doo..... Doo DOOO d-doop doop" etc

Beyond our garden fence at present is an enormous building site, soon to house 250+ dwellings, but currently a mess of levelled soil, mud, part-built garages, scaffolding bricks, huge diggers and other man-toys and (more importantly to us) FOXes. Yep - those exciting wild nearly-dogs who smell and scent-mark and prowl and scream and yap and rustle the vegetation, and drive we westies mad with call-of-the-wild yearnings and boiling territorial protectionist rage. If only we could get through the dog-proof fence and chase them, we'd see them off for sure. Well, Megan and I would. Haggis would probably stay back and encourage us from the safety of the garden (and grass us up and do "girlie-swot, teachers pet stuff")

So what is my picture today? An uninteresting bit of chain-link fence down between the beech hedge and the new arris-rail / feather-edge fence? A low 4-course brick wall and a load of brambles? Well it was, till we discovered that by nosing under the wire we could squeeze between the wall and the fence and whoosh - we'd be gone.

So it was that late last night when Mum and Dad had finished celebrating becoming Auntie/Uncle again (fizz on the terrace - very posh!), and Dad had retired to bed, a very concerned, bringing "the dogs" in, Mum came up and said "I can only find Haggis!". Everybody got up again and fired up torches and scrambled down to look over fences and under sheds, round gates and behind bushes.

Nope. Haggis was the only dog in the garden. Then suddenly he wasn't because I'd come back, attracted by the hulla-balloo. "Deefer!... Where have you been and where's Meggie?". So I obligingly bolted back for the hole to go find her, but this time the humans followed me with torches and unfortunately caught the sight of me disappearing. Busted!

There then followed an exciting time where humans whistled and yelled and shone torches over fences, seeing the green eyes of foxes, and the white flanks of westies moving about, but then suddenly dog-treats were being offered and the game was up. The only difficulty was persuading Meggie she really would fit back through the hole downwards, and then we were in, and Dad wedged up the hole with some serious logs (those now in the pic and more besides), and we are effectively grounded.

We were filthy, but it was fun while it lasted. Freedom!

Yee hah
Deefer McQueen

Big Fella'

Hugo the Dane, as promised. Big lad, isn't he. Not as big, though as the family's previous Danes. Apparently we are to meet, but on neutral territory and with Hugo on the lead to start with at least - probably Conyer Creek or somewhere like that. Gulp.

Meanwhile, all I have to report is another roll in the fox poo on the Rec, that earned me an impromptu bath in the Belfast sink. It's not on!

Have a great weekend
Deefs

Go Ellie!

Yay! My Big-Sis is through her first season, and me not even started yet. Dad and Mum are putting forward theories to do with there being 2 dominant dogs, and especially an Alpha-female around the house, keeping me in puppy mode? Alpha-female? Hah! I just let her win! And as for Haggis, Bless him. He wouldn't know "dominant" if it camped out on the back lawn and proposed to his daughter!

Ellie is also now very very hairy as the groomer lady wanted to hold off clipping her till she'd got through her season. She looks about midway in size between myself and Archie, but it's very difficult to tell when she is insulated with 4 inch shag-pile rug

Go Ellie!

Deefs

Soggy Bluebell Walk

Fun weekend. Mum does a "Eurovision Song Contest Party" in which the humans seem to assemble to rip the mick out of the contest and worship at the throne of the TogMeister. At one stage it looked like there might be 9 dogs - we three, Old Dad's three (Hector, Mollie and Archie), Diamond's "Asbo", 2CV P+J's "Janey" and a cairn owned by ace guitarist chum of Mum and Dad, "Dylan". In the event (probably a good thing) we just had Janey, so mayhem didn't happen and the cats survived. Arguable whether they would have done had Hector and Mollie arrived (real Mum and Real Dad) - they like a good cat apparently !!

My pics today though, are of the Bluebell Walk in Challock Forest that finally happened. The bluebells were just about clinging on in places but definitely past their best. Best thing ever though was Old-Dad turning up with Hector, Mollie and the amazing Archie, my brother and litter-mate. I just stress that one because of how huge Archie has grown. Look at the pic of just the three (on leads) before we started. Mollie is left, Arch' in the middle and Hector (Dad) on the right. Arch is bigger than Hector already and about one and a half times the size of me!

What a time we had. It was chucking it down and the bluebells were disappearing rapidly as bramble grows up through and beech leaves expand to close up the canopy. But Archie and I had a whale of a time charging round and round. He may be bigger and more powerful but I am nippy and manouvre-able, and we're closely matched in straight line speed.

The other pics are of us out in the forest, one down by the abandonned riding school, and the other in a narrow path with still a few bluebells. Finally there are all 6 of us back at the cars, lathered up with mud and wet. From left to right we are (Front left Mollie (Mum), behind left Hector (Dad), Front centre Archie (look how big he is), behind him partly obscured, Haggis, then me and finally Meggie. We can't wait to get towelled off and home so that we can crash out. That was midday - it's now nearly 3 and we haven't stirred yet!

Enjoy the rest of the weekend

Deefs

Getting there

Much to the consternation of Mum and Dad, after three months or so of being dry and clean indoors, I have suddenly started to pee indoors - my own dog-bed one day, the family (human) bed the next (Yay! Right through the duvet and into the mattress - how popular was I?), and the rug in the computer room the third day. Put that with eating grass, very soft poos and being sick, and the humans are starting to talk of hormonal changes, discomfort, coming of age... that sort of thing. They are inspecting my "below stairs" quite often now, but apparently not much is happening.

What a weeeknd the humans have, and we'll be involved in some of it. Saturday they are off to Hastings to be at Dad's Dad's 80th, then back here for their own mad Eurovision party, and then on Sunday, the long-awaited bluebell walk (yes, there still are plenty!) and an allotments volunteer work-party day

Have a good 'un youselves!

Deefer
(Girl...You'll be a woman soon)