Owen

A real scorcher! Hot sun, blue skies and not a breath of wind! A treat for all of us. Mum and Dad take us to visit friends of theirs in the village of Dunkirk who, 9 years ago, bought one of Meggie's own pups, a very handsome fella called Owen (named after the footballer, Michael Owen). Meg and Haggis are always delighted to see their son again, so they were all romping around happily and I liked him too.

I mean REALLY liked him. Came over quite un-necessary in fact, so that the humans were making sideways comments about tarts and flirting and holding my tail in an unusual way and never leaving him alone. He didn't mind. There were rueful looks too. I gather that Owen is the last in Meg and H's "line" and Mum and Dad were harbouring low level dreams about my future and possible continuation of that line, but a recent medical issue has led to him being "done". Bad timing, I guess. Never mind - I love him anyway.

But what a day we had. We had lots of time to race around the garden (see pics of Owen and I on the sun deck, and the two of us romping on the lawn), and then we were all taken on a gorgeous, rabbit-filled walk all through the orchards to the Red Lion pub in Herne Hill, so that Dad and his mate could try out the extra cold Genius. The we walked all the way back. That was hot. We all cooled off by either lying in the shade (Haggis, Owen, moi) or jumping into the pond! (Go Meggie!)

Hope you had a great weekend

Deefs

Camber Sands

A rare treat for us, and a first for me. Mum and Dad are off to Hastings to visit the Pud-Lady (steak and Kidney pud, every Saturday for the last 50 years or so!), so they decide to leave early and walk us all at the River Rother end of Camber sands. What an excellent place! The tide was miles out so there was loads of space to run around in. It was thundery hot.

Dad swears that this is as good a place as any to get your dogs groomed "au naturel" for free. The sea water washes them a treat, the run back across miles of beach and the climb over the sand dunes dries and bleaches them. Then the marram grass and the rabbit-running sea buckthorn behind the dunes combs and strips everybody till they could be at Crufts. Well... maybe it works for young dogs who have the energy to chase through the buckthorn, and Dad says that he'd often walk that way when Meg and H were in their prime. They'd walk East from the mouth of the Rother for half an hour or more, then head inland and fight their way back west through the thorn bushes chasing dozens of young bunnies. But now, poor Meggie is an old girl, and even with her efficient rolling gait she's still hot and panting by the time we reach the sea.

More for her a stroll down the beach, then a wade (as you can see) to cool off the belly and the feet. Then in her case a roll in the sand to "clean and dry" herself (ha!) before we stroll back to the car. Dad says one day he'll take Meggie a short walk, then bring Haggis and I out to Camber on a proper one. Can't wait

My photo's today are of (in no particular order)

• sniffing and old dead skate on the beach, me on the right
• cooling off - me on the right again
• Meggie rolling on the sand luxuriously
• The buckthorn scrub
• Me at the top of the old stairs in Hastings

Enjoy the weekend

Deefer

This Starling is Reversing

You know how good these starlings are at mimickry. We have one around our house that "sings" the electronic bleeping "doodle-oop... doodle-oop" rising and falling notes of HGV reversing warnings. Mum and Dad expect any minute to hear a voice recorder saying "This Starling is Reversing"

We saw Ellie tonight - wow! She's finally had her haircut and what a transformation! She is brilliant white immaculate, with the close cropped back and flanks, very close cut neck and the longer hair on the head and the "feathers" along her belly and legs. She is beautiful. She looks just like a show dog! Dad must take a photo to show you. I don't think I'll ever be that gorgeous, even if Dad practises for years with those clippers.

Have a great weekend
Deefs

I Love Mungo Park

No, not the real Scottish explorer who bimbled up the Niger river; the little fox cub in Springwatch's "Fox in the City" footage. Part of the "Chip Shop Family", tonight he was being shown some road safety by mum-fox, and the foxy shapes nipping about on the wide-screen were enough to have me glued to the screen

Apparently we have "company". Mum found a "little friend" on herself yesterday, and Haggis, who is the family's "bell-wether" for the parasitic beasties (he seems to get bitten first, and then starts licking the short fur at the base of his tail, which turns pink with the iron stain in his saliva), giving the game away.

So tonight it was "Frontline" time for all 5 of we animals, and machine-wash time for all the dog bedding. Dad swears by this stuff, which he can only get from the vet in quite an expensive trigger pack, as being the only stuff worthwhile. All fleas dead and gone in a couple of days, and none come back for a month or two, depending on how many "total immersion" baptisms we dogs get to wash it off. A good spray will last the water-avoiding cats all summer.

Ah well, Go Mungo

Deefs

Whickering

Every night at present, when we can be, we are glued to the TV and to Springwatch. It is amazing what attracts the young westie's attention. Last night two baby badgers romping around outside their sett "whickering" as they chased about - that is, making squeaky chirrupping noises. I sit on the back of the sofa and when these beasties appear, my head's up, cocked, and my ears pricked up, but special ones like the badgers have me off the seat and skittering around in front of the TV table, or reared up on my hind legs, to get my face nearer to the screen.

Tonight it was the Barnacle geese flocking in to Islay in October, doing that honking thing that flocks of flying geese do.

Meanwhile, my heat progresses. Dad says I look like one of the saggy-bottom boys. Mum's just pleased I'm not dripping any more blood. I flirt outrageously with Haggis, and even sometimes look amazed to find my tail curled round to my side, but Haggis only has eyes for Meggie, the faithful old boy. All too confusing - grown-up stuff

Deefs

Musical Bones

More than once, Meggie has fooled us out of bones we were chewing. Having finished her own bit you then see her sit down near the back door with a thoughtful expression. Suddenly she's up a yapping, appearing to charge down the garden. We are bound to follow - brothers in arms and all that, but we don't realise she's not actually with us more than the first few feet, when H and I charge by, barging her aside as we go. Only when we suss that there is, in fact no threat, do we return to the bones, to find Meggie contentedly chewing on one, looking very smug

Well tonight, the tables were turned. 3 dogs, 3 bits of lamb carcase, 3 chewing positions on the terrace. I finish mine and sit back. Then a genuine "noises off" round the side of the house has Megan leaping into action to charge round the side. abandonning her bone. Haggis leaps up to and persues her. Un-noticed by all but Dad, I slide over to Haggis's and nick it, looking at Dad with an "act natural say nuffink" look. Haggis is first back round, sees his own bone gone but spies Meggies. Quick look over his shoulder and a visible gulp, and he's stolen Meg's.

We all got away with this game of musical bones, only because while stealing bones that are abandonned is just about allowed, no-one actually attacks a bone-in-mouth dog, even when it's Haggis.

Fun eh?

Deefs

Ten Feet Up

Nice trick this morning on the misty moisty dog walk. We went through the fields and came back through the boatyard, where at, several boats up on blocks while they are restored, repaired, painted etc. Some of these are long term projects and they set them up for the duration with makeshift rooves over them, walls round and flights of temporary steps to give access to the decks

One such big old yacht has a keel so tall Dad's head is always below the plimsoll line and the deck level is a full ten feet from the ground. So as we all walked along the creek bank wharf, Dad was a bit surprised when I suddenly shot off after (he knows now) the scraggy big boatyard tom-cat; a black and white, moth-eaten demon of a thing. He kept walking with Meg and the H, till he realised I wasn't among those present. They stopped, whistled, clapped, shouted etc, fully expecting me to emerge, panting from under a pile of rubbish, or a boat, or from behind a caravan with that "Nearly got him, Dad" grin. I did not reappear

Retracing their steps to see where I could have gone, Dad spotted me, ten feet up, looking down at him from the deck of the yacht, about 6 feet back from the prow, where-in sat the cat, glaring and singing "Come on then you tart! Come and have ago if you fink you're 'ard enough!". I couldn't see how to get down to Dad - he had to go all round to the back of the boat, encouraging me to go the same way, ten feet above, till I got to the top of the open flight of ricketty stairs and sussed it.

Happy to be re-united; was in a bit of a pickle there!

Have a good weeekend

Deefer