Real "Brushing" ; a second swim

Amazing co-incidence. There I was yesterday, chatting about blow-dries and poshe dog grooming in la France. Today I acheived a goal that I've been trying for, for weeks. In the garden here, there's a low brick wall making a rectangle, about 5 courses high-no more. A small pup can stand on her hind legs and peer up to look over the top, just, but not jump over.

Or she couldn't. With the Angel Betty round today to let us all out for a pit-stop, I was mooching around, as one does. Then when she wasn't looking properly I "mooched" over to this wall and had a go at leppin' up and over it. To my amazement, I suddenly could. To my amazement, the top of the wall was only 4 inches wide, which is not a lot of distance for a speeding westie to stop in. To my amazement the rectangle held a rather weedy, overgrown, duck-weed infested pond!!! Suddenly I was paddling about and swimming between the pickerel weed and goosefoot, the duckweed and waterlily. It was cold and wet! Green with duckweed and soggy with black mud. I squeaked for help, but Betty was already running my way

So, to cut a long story short, with the boss away, I was suddenly, having my first bath, in Dad's "Belfast sink" - warm water, shampoo, Uncle Jim holding me and Angel Betty doing the honours. Even got a blow-dry, Jim holding me while Betty brushed and held the hair dryer. So now I am fragrant, white, fluffy and gorgeous, and in disgrace at the same time!

Betty has apparently taken some photos of me covered in duck weed, so I'll post those when she sends them.

More tomorrow. By the way, If you're reading this and having a laugh, please do say so. I sometimes feel that I'm writing these blogs into a black hole, read by no-one. It would be good to know that one or two out there are enjoying them

Deefer

Le Brushing Dogs

What a lot to talk about!

Bit confused just now about the family dynamics. Mum went off the Paris for le Christmas Shopping, and while she was still gone, Dad took off on a business trip. In between, the Angel Betty (Bless Her) ministered to my needs, and reported back to both M+D my brilliance at nipping out to perform all functions you'd expect of a pup without keeping anyone waiting

Eventually (!) Mum returned from Paris and brought me the most beautiful harness and lead in girly red/pink check. It comes (don't you know) from a shop called "Brushing Dogs" from Rue Damremont in Montmartre. "Brushing" might look like an English word, but it is the word used in the sophistimicated Paree salons, for what we know as a blow-dry. They don't go in for any of this boring "laver les cheveux" (wash your hair) nonsense, like you'd learn in school. It's all "le shampoo-ing" and "le-brushing" (said in your most alluring French accent to make dad go all goo-ey). So "Brushing Dogs" is not, in fact a boring name for a shop, but a clever tilt at the poshe dog-grooming market. This shops sells, I am told, all manner of collars, leads, grooming stuff, dog beds etc, so I am very proud. Now I can go out and meet le publique and hold my head up alongside la Duchesse Meggie et le Captaine 'Aggeeeees. Mais oui!

However, these highbrow notions were not long lasting, and the first thing Dad heard when he came back from le business treep to find me confined behind the "stable door" into the laminated floors of the dining room was Mum, in best Irish-Landlady tones, saying "She's BARRED, the little demon!" . It's outrageous! I only did a FEW poo's and MOST of them were on the newspaper. So now I'm grounded in the laminated floor bits of the house

Soon though - freedom. 2nd jab done and this a low risk area for parvo and distemper, there is talk of me maybe getting a first walk on Saturday

I'll keep you posted!

Deefs

Meet the Family

Hi - meet the big sis (Megan) on the left (your left, not mine) and the bro', Haggis (your right, on the other chair, and looking a tad wary in this picture because his chair was not sitting flat on the terrace. Every time he moved the chair shifted just enough to unsettle him, and he's a bit of an anxious fella at the best of times. Not the best shot in the world - we took several but either one, 2 or all three dogs are not looking at the camera in each, and this is the nearest we got.

Really need Mum to come back from Paris, then she can attract our attention with a "sweetie" while Dad clicks away. She's back tomorrow.

Oh... in case you were keeping up with the "ears" story, Archie's are still undecided. Sometimes one up, sometimes 2, then none.....

More soon

Deefer

Ear Ear

Oh Dear - feeling quite inadequate and inferior. Have heard through the grapevine that brother Archie can go both up and down stairs. I am still in that stage where I can scrurry up them very efficiently...

....but then when I turn round and look down from the top it's like looking over BeachyHead. It's MILES down there. I can hop down the last 2, and (with bribery and coercion) maybe the last 3, but all of them? Think I'll just stand at the top and shout for help

Also - rather miffed to find that sis Ellie (was called Beryl till she moved) who now lives not far up the road, has both ears up already. That seems to be the thing with smoothe coated westies. It must be the weight of all the fluff on mine, holding the tips down like the animation dog Grommit. Ah well, patience. It happens eventually. One morning you wake up and you have one sticky-up ear, then two, then maybe one, two, one... till after a few days they're up and they stay that way, looking like a demented fruit-bat. Wonder how brother Archie is getting on Ears-wise (Molly, if you read this, let me know)

Looking forward to meeting Ellie again. I've had my 2nd jab, Ellie gets hers Wednesday, so we'll be out to meet our public on about the 8th Dec. Can't wait.

Lashin' with rain, miserable cold wet November Day

Deefer

Only Minutes old

A thought occurred - you guys might like to see what a westie pup looks like only minutes old. No way of telling now whether this is me, or sis Beryl-the-Barrel, or brother Archie, but here is one of us nestling into the maternal flank, only minutes old. Eyes and ears are closed over, hair is white and very short, legs are too weak to take the weight of our little bodies, but we're remarkably good at squirming around, especially in the direction of mum's teats.

New-dad was there as midwife, while old Dad calmed the nerves of old-Mum with tea and sympathy. It went well. About an hour and a half all told, including a long pause when everyone relaxed and thought that two was our lot. Then suddenly Mum-Molly arched up from her "sleep", made a funny yowp! noise and pumped out a third (girl) pup

From there on for a few weeks it's a case of suckling like mad and inflating visibly before your eyes, getting cuter and cuter till at 7 weeks we look either like my main pic, or a smoother-coated version of same (I am told I am unusually fluffy and bear-like (Beryl's Mum says I am a westie-cross-goat!) but the vet-nurses today exclaimed as I got carried into their Reception foyer, "Ahhh loooooook", and raced round either side of the desk to try to be the first to grab me for a cuddle!

Deefs (still a bit sore from the jab)

A complete tart and drama queen

Been for my jabs today and was, as predicted by my old Dad, not the stoic, hardy, tough young lady that is expected of the rugged, Scottish Highlands breed... cough cough. Even my new dad said in advance that big Sis Megan stands and takes it like a warrior, little flinch - "That didn't hurt!" hissed between gritten teeth. Haggis, apparently, it depends.... sometimes stoic, sometimes a whimper or a yip. But me? Nice man in white coat came towards me and looked friendly, poked and prodded, listened to my chest, made a fuss. You know - lulling me into a false sense of security.

OWWWWWW-OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!

Ooops - suitably embarrassed. Wonder if I'll be invited back?

Deefs

La Shopping Parisienne ... ooh la la!

Oooh la la! I am a single parent family. Mum has departed today on the Eurostar train to Paris, with my "Auntie" Diane (owner of ASBO the dog, who I have not met yet, but whose reputation precedes him). She has filled me with wonder and exciting dreams - Galeries Lafayette! the Barbes Market! Montmartre! the Christmas Lights, posh restaurants where (quiet, well mannered) dogs are welcome, seedy smoky tabacs where tired shoppers can take the weight off their feet with a calvados and a ciggie, hydrants that are turned on daily to flush the dog poo down the gutters into the drains (ah.... what a romantic idea!)

Mum tells me she will buy me not one, but two collars, while she is in Paris (indeed, she tells me that that is the main reason she is going :-)) ), one for while I'm puppy sized, one for when my neck is thickened up to grown-up size. Sounds good to me, though I have not yet actually had a collar on. Meggie's black-spotted, dalmation coloured collar and Haggis's tartan ones both come from Paris after all.

2nd Jab tomorrow, then in a few weeks time, I'm allowed out in public

Ahhhh! Just scared myself silly. Was idly lying on the put-up bed chewing the nearest thing that came to hand (which happened to be the front paw of one of the "singing westie" toys I told you about yesterday. How was I to know that the switch to start them singing is in the paw of the "boy" toy! Suddenly started off on "They say we're young and we don't know.. we won't find out until we grow". Blimey! Didn't know my little legs could leap off that bed so stylishly and run that fast out into the landing

Scarier than "Torchwood" last night!

(Panting) Deefer