Call of the Wild

Behind us, the big building site is progressing well, but the bit immediately behind us is destined to be car parking, and is scraped clear and currently used by the builders' cars. Bordering on this is a foxes' earth, and the foxes come out and yowl and yap when it gets dark, sending us carreering down the garden at speed. They are long-limbed skinny ones, so we think they are this year's cubs, now grown up to full size

We race down to the beech hedge and shout and yap at them till we are told off and dragged back indoors bythe spoilsport humans. Yesterday though, Haggis decided to try a new tactic and told the foxes what Westies could do - Owww-oooooooooooo....OWWWWWWWWWWOOOO. He was magnificent. It was like "Call of the Wild" out there! Go "H" !!

Meanwhile, Dad's been up mowing around the allotment in a rare dry opportunity and come back all green-footed.

Mum has made up the bed with some oh-so-posh, brand new Fenn-Wright-Manson Egyptian cotton sheets , duvet cover etc and sends Dad an email at work that says the "mutts" are barred, and that if any of "them" get into the bed before she does, she's off out looking for a cookbook with dog recipes. Seems a bit harsh

Dad decides to thoroughly wash the ol' green feet before he gets in!

Scaring ourselves to death with the inland waterways pre-holiday guidance DVD. Those boats look very very very long!

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Staying Over, at Dylan's

I'm in love! There is a new man in my life. Slightly portly, and under the vet for his diet, he's now regaining his trim puppy good looks. He is Norfolk terrier Dylan (15 months), whose humans are friends of Mum and Dad. We were all invited to stay over last night at their house, and to sleep in the big, well appointed Summer House.

We were already a bit tired, the three of us, from a busy day helping Mum and Dad in the garden (especially me, who helped by digging a big hole between the tubs of old, spent daffs and tulips in the chicken run), but it was great to have a run up and down Dylan's garden. Then as the evening wore on and the humans got fed and lubricated, we all of us invaded various of Dylan's beds, till when the humans were rattling out "Brown Eyed Girl" and "Rock and Roll is King" on the guitars, or lazing in the outdoor hot spa-bath, there were sleeping dogs in every possible corner of the rooms.

A brilliant night, and many thanks to Dylan and his people for entertaining us all. Now it's breakfast time and Mum and Dad are off to find Diamond for bit of eggs and bacon.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend

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I Clavdivs

After they enjoyed the BBC drama "Rome" so much, the humans had to shoot out and get the 1976 series "I, Claudius" on DVD boxed set, and we've been watching it ever since. On the TV titles, the "u"s in "Claudius" were always depicted as "V"s, and it's been a family joke ever since, to pronounce them that way. Little things..... But let me tell you, there are no dogs, no animals, no barking in it at all, nothing of interest to a westie, so my pics today are of the three of us plus Felix curled up on the settee "watching" I Claudius.

Meg is in her favourite position on the "far end" (Dad thinks her favourite position is where ever he wants to sit). I am (as ever) up on the back of the settee, either looking down on them all, or with my nose squeezed into the crack between the settee and the wall. Haggis here is curled up with Felix looking quite cute. Which ever one of them is on the sofa first, the other seems to wait till they're settled and then kind of squidge in alongside. Not sure what felix is doing with his head on one side in the front-on shot. Stretching maybe? Weird cat.

Dad has treated himself to a new shredder for the garden, so this afternoon we whizzed through all the cuttings of vibernum, bay and paulownia in double-quick time. Dad is delighted. he can finally throw out the old noisy rattly blunt thing given to us by the Pud-Lady, even though it was beyond its sell by date then.

Have a great weekend

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The Grass was as High....

It's a warm sweaty night, so our walk, mercifully, joins the dots from pond to stream to drainage ditch to dyke. At each, we are allowed to scurry down the bank and paddle (or swim, if we lep' into a bit that's deeper than we thought, Haggis), but if we don't fancy that, then we can rush up and down the bank and try to guess what all the excitement's about. As you know, I am on an "impress the humans by staying clean and dry" campaign, so I don't go in, while Meggie and H get quite sordid. Mind you I do join them in the "rolling on your back to dry yourself" action, even though I am dry. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

The abandoned fields (no longer farmed, but still escaping the developer's bull-dozers) out back of Dad's allotment, are very bright at present, with wild flowers. We have yellows from ragwort and bristly ox-tongue, purples from willow-herbs (rose bay (= fireweed) and "greater"), thistles and teasels, darker purples from tufted vetch, whites from wild carrot, ox-eye daisy and convulvulus, we have clovers (red and white), and we have the dark terracotta of old dock flower spikes, now turned to seed.

It's all chest-high on Dad, so we are pleased (and we might be in a minority here!) that the dirt-bike boys get out there cutting and wearing paths through those fields. If it wasn't for those guys those fields would be denied to us by now. They might be noisy, but they definitely improve access. As long as they are responsible and don't run us over (so far they are, and they don't!) then more power to their elbows!

Have a great weekend

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Round and round the mulberry bush

The cemetery again and the three of us on flexi leads. Rabbits everywhere. But Dad's hanging on tight this time and the mobile doesn't go off (though we almost got away when Dad tried to juggle the three leads and a poo-bag to pick up Meggie's donation). Never mind - we get a good run around up the "far end" while there's nobody about

So, frustrated by this lack of escape, I am taking up the baton of squirrel chasing, moving the skill on from Megan's tutor-ship. While Meggie chases a squirrel to the tree and then, when it disappears upwards she hops around indecisively, I run at the tree aiming to be drawn in by the gravity towards the trunk and then run around the tree in a full circle (or even two) checking out all angles in quick succession.

I further aim to score bonus points relative to the Meg and the H, by being a prim and proper Miss when it comes to the one muddy puddle on the Rec. Both M and H are drawn inexorably towards this as moths to a candle flame, and invariably come away with black majorette boots. My mission is to return from every walk with immaculate feet. as white and fluffy as when I set out. (OK, as beige and no more scruffy).

Have a lovely evening
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Soggy Dogs

Rain, rain and more rain. The news full of footage of floods and heart break. We are fortunate down here in Kent to have, so far, just the rain. We get a quick walk, dashing out round the Rec (at Meggie's insistence) so we can all do what dogs a-gotta do, and I can have a good game of "plastic bottle". There's always one on the Rec and Dad boots it about so I can chase it down and nail it. My favourites are the Yazoo Chocolate bottles, which I can have a sneaky slurp from the end of in between nailing it.

We are towelled off on our return, looking like drowned rats.

Mum is buried in studying, Dad in Harry Potter.

Have fun
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Speaks like a Magistrate

Remember that stag's head oak I described on April 17th? At the time I said it was one of Dad's favourites and that it always looked like it was on the verge of death, but somehow struggled on. Well for months afterwards it sat there sulking and leafless, and I wondered whether I should admit that it had finally succumbed. But No; it is in leaf again, as far as that goes.

One exciting thing I neglected to say yesterday was that we saw a kingfisher at the "bottom" pond, just below the "Cloud Chamber" sculpture (see www.StourValleyArts.org.uk). No idea what he/she was doing there. The pond is not natural - it was built a few years back using a grant obtained by Friends of Kingswood and as far as we know there are no fish in it. It is not stream-fed, so there's no obvious way of fish getting there. perhaps kingfishers eat newts too? But it was definitely a kingfisher - that's one bird you cannot mistake for any other!

Meanwhile, Mum is dining out on the fact that she was described by a person we know only briefly, to a mutual friend as "speaking like a magistrate". She is chuffed to bits with this, of course!

And so, on the last night of "Rome" and the last Harry Potter (Mum had read it by 02:24 last night), I'll wish you good night

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