Open Fields

On the wine label - nuff said - it amused Mum and Dad anyway. Good marketing too, I suppose, in that it amused them enough to make them bring a case back from France last weekend.

The burgeonning greenery is sweet woodruff, growing in the "orchard" at the bottom of the garden. Mum and Dad set this up only last year once we'd decided that ever mixing chickens again with my good self was probably not on, and the old chook-run might as well be converted back to garden.

They searched the "be your own expert" books for shaded woodland plants and came away with a trolley load of pulmonarias, arums, sweet woodruff, foxgloves end others which did OK last year, died back to survive the winter, and are now shooting like there's no tomorrow. Makes for a lovely snuffly rootling around garden for westies - piles of logs for mice, old beech leaves and all sorts.

Big excitement too for Dad when some anonymous swirlings in the main pond catch his eye. Too big to be taddies, and impossible for fish after (we think) we got heron'd and have never seen a fish since, Dad suspects newts. He's always wanted newts as they shout "wildlife gardener" quite loudly, but in 12 years of this pond none have come. We all sit and watch and sure enough it's newts - dozens of them! How come you have none for 12 years and then suddenly we have lots?

Nice walk today. Haggis, Dad and I leave the ol' slow-coach behind, distracted by Mum and some meat, and head off to the Abbey Fields north and east of the allotments. Recently cleared of the extensive scrub of hawthorn, brambles and birch, and "restored" (if such it is) to farmland, there are now a few hedges left, and in between acre upon acre of flattish cultivated and rolled tilth. No shoots or germination yet - just dry crumbled then rolled soil. You can see for miles - and you can chase rabbits for miles too! A dog got quite breathless.

Easter Sunday tomorrow - do dogs get Easter Eggs?

Deefer

ohhh and the final pic is Greengage blossom (Reine Claude, to be precise), also in the orchard

Nice day for a... white wedding

Good Friday, but Dad works in the "depot that never sleeps", so he's in in the morning. Big day for one of his colleagues today - Ebonie's getting married. The forecast is not good and, as part of the do, the happy couple have booked an open-top horse-and-carriage ride from the wedding venue to the evening "do" venue - a few minutes by car but an hour and a quarter by h+c.

Luckily the weather, here at any rate, holds off and it's sunny for several hours round about the time of the ride. We know this because Dad grabs the chance to head for the allotment with chitted spuds and onion sets all in need of planting. We aren't let loose at the allotments at present because too many plot holders have finely manicured tilths and perfect rows of seedlings in seedbeds, but we're taken up later on our walk, so we can see the results of his labours.

There's another squirrel taken up residence in the rose and honeysuckle tangle on the back of the house. It's a small and probably young animal, so is way too agile for us, and drives us mad by scampering towards the house, in full view of the back windows, along the top of the neighbour's fence. We can only squeak and hop about inside, driven mad by frustration.

Ah well, it just remains to wish Ebonie and Craig all the best so, in yer best cock-a-ney karaoke voices-ah! Orllll togevvah nah !

.........I gotta be there in the morning - ah!
Spruced up and lookin' in me prime.
Some bloke who's able
Lift up the table,
And get em to the church on time! ah!
If I am flying
Then shoot me down.
If I am wooin'..... etc to fade.......,

Deefski Doolittle-Ah!

Not good enough....

Haggis is a funny ol' sausage. He has his own fixed little ways and gets quite upset if anything ruffles his feathers and gets in the way. Take the way he quietly decided that as humans decide to sit down to eat, a dog should take himself off upstairs to sleep on the humans' bed till the meal is over. Nobody trained him to, nobody asked him to, it's just a Haggis thing.

Or there's the way that in his world when the phone rings somebody answers it, or when an alarm clock sounds, somebody should wake up, reach out and turn it off. If either of these things happen and the expected response does not, he will start off with a few tentative howls, and quickly build into the full heart-breaking, pain-filled anguish of it all OwwwooooOOOOO!!!!!

When Dad's alarm goes off (about 04:15) Haggis and I wake immediately and follow Dad downstairs to be there wide awake while he breakfasts and gets ready for work. We get let out (with Meggie, who's already downstairs by now), then Dad goes off patting us and giving us the farewell dog-treat, shuts the door and heads round to the car.

Barely is the car off the drive, than we have sprinted back upstairs to get back in or on bed with Mum. Haggis's habit is to come round to Mum's side of the bed, scratching at the woodwork to wake Mum enough to be helped in (he's more than capable of jumping on - it's just another Haggis thing). There are, here too, standards to be observed.

Mum was a bit put out and amused recently when two nights running the "service" she gave was clearly not up to standards. Once he didn't like that she'd only let him on the bed, so he jumped back off and scratched again, markedly asking to be let in under the covers. Another time, when she'd not quite given him enough room, he braced his spine against her and nudged hard to move her over. When, in her dozy state she grumped at him and refused to move, he walked round and poked her sleepy face with his cold wet nose to make sure she got the message. She ended up, she reports, sleeping on "Dad's side of the bed".

Meanwhile, a strange new shaggy dog on the Rec, young Petra. She is a poodle cross Lowchen. Lowch-a-doodle? Westie sized but black and as shaggy as one of those Briards. We'd not heard of a Lowchen, but here it is, as bold as brass on Google - a Little Lion Dog. Hi Petra, welcome to our little 16:30 doggie group

http://www.thelowchenclubuk.com/

Deefski

Home Alone

Our cruel and heartless parents abandoned us at the weekend, leaving us to the tender care of the Angel B and Jim. Where's that RSPCA number?

They were off to France for an over-nighter, to give Dad his birthday meal (they went a bit mad and had it in a very nice restaurant in St Omer, called le Cygne

http://www.restaurantlecygne.fr/

... not cheap, but very very good - more of that later, when I've finished discerning the 7 courses from the smells on Mum and Dad when they came back)

From there they were off to La Chapelle d'Armentieres, the town near Lille which gave Dad's project 2CV to Birchington in North Kent as part of the twinning celebrations 20 years ago. The town wants Dad and his cronies to bring the 2CV back for a carnival to celebrate the 20th anniversary, so they were over to meet the main contact lady and sort out the details.

So... we were left all alone from midday Saturday round to about 3pm on Sunday, but we coped, and we are now extracting maximum sympathy (raw pork ribs and multiple fussings) due to guilt on their part.

All's back to normal here-abouts though - they're back at work, so we're into the 4.30 dog-club routine out on the Rec. Everybody's out there. We meet Misha, and Finzi, Ben and a new choc lab belonging to an Ozzie lady. The dog's called "Ciccio" (Italian for "chubby-cheeks" allegedly) and we meet again that 4 year old Shar-Pei called Monty we've mentioned before.

More soon

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

Water Meter

Our lovely warm Spring sunshine has given way to haze and a chilly wind. Our walk is mildly delayed by Dad needing to wait for "A survey by Clancy DOCWRA of the water supply; in preparation for installation of a water meter". Dad has to be home by 4 and wait a man in a van.

We fear this will be one of those like the gas man visits where you are forced to sit in earshot of the front door for hours and like as not the guy doesn't show.

Let's hear it then for Clancy's. Their man was here at 3 minutes to 4 and the "survey" consisted of him opening the little metal cover in the pavement outside and declaring "Oh - you're already set up with the yoke for the meter..... I can fit it straight away". And he did. A bit of digging out of sediment round the "yoke", and all done in 10 minutes. These meters are even fitted with radio-frequency kit which means they can be read from a car passing in the street - doesn't even need to stop. The "survey" was in case they needed to dig up the pavement.

So we're done. It'll be interesting, says Dad, to see if the bills are any amount different.

So, within minutes, we're off to the Rec where we get a good run around with usual suspects Bugsy and Billy (the Bichons), and with Ben. Ben and I each have a tennis ball. Mine is clean, yellow and fluffy. Ben's is almost black, bald and covered in doggy gloop. Now please guess which one I prefer and end up with!

Finally a nice pic of a Crown-Imperial Lily in our garden - just to renmind us that it really is Spring

Deefer

Oh Yusssss

More Spring sunshine, and the world and his wife is walking dogs on the rec tonight. We have an excellent ball throwing game with coarse-haired, short legged Jack Russell, "Smudge" followed by a big run in circles for me with same. Megan and the H content themselves with chatting to Smudge's companion, pristine white 10 year old Westie, Barney.

Also out there, a new dog (to us anyway), 18 month old British Bulldog "Sumo" (brilliant name) - all muscles and snuffly grunts as he gets all excited trying to say hello, but we're all on leads by that point. Looks like he'd be fun, but probably not very fast. Could you beat him, Churchill? Ho... Yussssss!

Then on the way home we meet beagle Mollie, our long term chum who lives in this same street. Finzi's out there, too, and "LB", plus (we see in the distance but don't cross paths with, tiny Patterday pup Sue.

It's buzzing!

Deefski