Hamish the Westie

New dog and new new blog

2010-04-22T17:58:00.000+01:00

The 'between dogs' thing (previous post) only lasted 2 months. I now have a new dog, a wire-haired fox terrier puppy (adorable, of course) called Bertie.

He already has his very own blog. www.bouncingbertie.blogspot.com

New Blog

2010-03-14T10:51:00.004Z

With Hamish now resting in peace, gone but never forgotten, I am starting a new blog. Having for so long written in the persona of Hamish, it may take a while to settle into my own voice. For fans of my little Westie, I can promise that he will be present in spirit in the new blog, and, amongst much else, there will be the occasional reminiscence about the dear chap.

If interested, click on 'The Between Dogs Blog'.

Final resting place

2010-03-12T10:31:00.008Z

Readers of this blog may remember this photo of Hamish. I took it last Spring in the front garden of my West Highland cottage.

The stone when Hamish stands is just outside the front door of the cottage, overlooking Loch Torridon. The sheltered garden faces south, and even in Winter, if the sun is out, I love sitting there, contemplating the quiet and unspoilt beauty of the surroundings.

Hamish's preferred position was to lie on the soft peaty soil of the flower bed immediately to the left of the stone. Every year, he cheerfully flattened what was, until he turned up, a delicate display of autumn crocuses.

Hamish so loved our trips to Torridon. I think of it as his spiritual home. He knew that, once there, he'd have my full attention, no disappearing off to work and boring stuff like that. He 'd have such fun exploring the garden and roaming around the numerous and boggy footpaths along the loch and up the nearby hills. I'd let him get all muddy, safe in the knowledge that I could wash him off in a cool clear stream just a few yards down the road from the house. He didn't even mind the midges in Summer....

So it didn't take long to decide where to bury his ashes.

I drove over there a week last Sunday. Then, first off, I went down to the rocky beach a short distance from the cottage and selected a suitable stone to mark the spot. It had, of course, to be Torridonian Sandstone (part of the oldest sedimentary sequence in the UK, from the Precambrian era, approximately a billion years old, and so much easier on the paws than the other rocks of that region, the sharp angular quartzites, and coarsely crystalline schists and gneisses).

I chose a square squat stone, perhaps fancifully thinking of my compact and sturdy little dog.

Then I returned to the cottage, dug a little hole (unearthing a few crocus bulbs in the process).

I scattered in the ashes, lifted the marker stone into place, and made the bed tidy again.

Now I can sit in my favourite spot, think happy thoughts about my beloved and unforgettable little pal, and pat his marker stone from time to time and feel that all will be well.

PS Still working on ideas for a new blog. Watch this space.

A good innings.....

2010-02-22T15:04:00.006Z

Well I ran into a neighbour today, who often walks his rather slow black labrador at about the same time as I used to take dear Hamish out. Through tears (embarrassing in the newsagents) I told him about how I lost Hamish last week. With kindness in his eyes and voice, this taciturn Scot said "och well, he had a good innings didn't he?"

I don't know if this expression is used in non-cricket playing cultures; it is common to the point of cliche here, but none the worse for that.

Hamish did have a good innings, and I am so thankful.

Readers of this blog, I have been overwhelmed by your messages of condolence and support, and by all those beautiful poems and thoughts that you have offered as comfort. I apologize to those of you I have not found time to thank personally - I have so appreciated every single kind comment.

As for blogging, I have enjoyed it so much that I shall find a way to continue, as I begin to adjust to life without Hamish. It will be a new blog, and I'll post a link here when I decide exactly the format (probably in a few weeks). I shall of course also continue to follow my all favourite dog blogs - life would be dull without them now.

One day too, but not immediately, there will be a new dog in my house, I am sure.

Goodbye for now,

Gail.

The saddest news

2010-02-19T08:50:00.008Z

Gail here.

There is no good way of saying this. I'll tell it straight.

Late Wednesday afternoon (only a few minutes after I pressed the 'publish' button on the blog post) Hamish fell into a fit. A couple of hours later, he seemed to have stabilised, but then at about eight thirty came another seizure, and after that he went into a downward spiral of convulsion after convulsion interspersed with a sort of unhinged frantic pacing in circles around the room. After several calls to the emergency vet, at three o'clock in the morning I drove him the short distance to the veterinary surgery and made perhaps to the hardest decision of my life, to sign the consent form for 'humane euthanasia'.

He was such a grand little dog. He brightened my life for over a decade. I can't quite accept yet that he really is gone, the end came so suddenly. I keep hearing noises in the house and thinking 'what's he up to', and I find I don't know what to do with the time when I should be taking him for walk.

This photo below is last one I took of Hamish, crossing the road on his way back home after his final stroll.

Oot 'n' aboot in Ferryhill

2010-02-17T16:18:00.017Z

So we went out for a walk round the neighbourhood at lunchtime today. The winter sun was shining bright, and in the middle of day, by this time of year, if there's not too much wind, you can begin to feel just a little bit of warmth in the rays.

Not enough to make an old dog leave his coat at home mind.

Anyway, we weren't in a hurry, and I persuaded Gail to bring her camera along, so I can show you what our little corner of Aberdeen looks like. On a good day....

But please be aware that our Northern city doesn't alway appear so benign.

For example, you wouldn't believe what the conditions were like when Gail took me out earlier this week. I can't imagine what she was thinking!

I mean, who ever would consider it good idea to make one's elderly companion walk along by the city beach, when it's icy cold, a gale force wind is driving horizontal sleet in from the North Sea, and massive waves are walloping into the promenade? Well I did alright for a couple of hundred yards, then suddenly came over all faint and wobbly, my legs felt quite unsteady and I keeled over onto my side, and started to shake. I couldn't go any further. I just lay there. Gail picked me up and carried me back to the car, looking very anxious. She turned the heater on full and quickly drove us home. After a quiet couple of hours, inside in the warmth, I was feeling a good bit better.

So don't worry, I'm OK again now.

But it's no picnic, this getting old business.....

Max's World Tour - the Highland leg

2010-02-14T09:50:00.015Z

Long time readers of this blog will already be familiar with my Parallel Universe theory (see 29 July 2009). Well toss a few extra dimensions of quantum superposition into the mix and you will find yourself on Max's World Tour. Welcome!

You all know Max, don't you? My fine, handsome, loyal, noble friend from South Africa, the star of a quite wonderful blog. Well I am thrilled to be able to tell you that, wholly unexpectedly, he dropped in to see me this week, and accompanied me on a ramble in the Highlands.

Now it has always been my contention that a Westie is the perfect embellishment to the Scottish landscape. But, you know, looking at these pictures, I fear I have a rival. (Please don't let on to the Scottish Tourist Board, our contract negotiatons are still in the balance).

Well we had SO much to talk about, Max and I, and as we are both quite elderly gents, we interrupted our stroll with frequent rests.

Max told me all about his family back home, and especially about his Mom, who he adores and wants to thank over and over again for being so kind and taking such good care of him.

Of course, before Max left, I invited him in for a wee dram of Highland Park. It was a poignant moment, as I fear it will be Max's last visit to Scotland. My paws were shaking badly so no more photos were taken.

When I took Max back to the airport in Inverness, I have to report that he showed signs of being touch hungover. Well, we were both tired and emotional, and a tear or two was shed as he boarded the plane.

PS We would like to thank Petey's Mom in New York for her invaluable assistance with this post!

Sometimes a little flute music helps an old dog relax...

2010-02-12T10:08:00.014Z

A mugs' game...

2010-02-10T08:09:00.014Z

How am I doing today? Hmmmh. Thanks for asking. Well I've been feeling a bit up and down this week. But, to use a favourite phrase of human grandad, Soldiering On.

Yes indeed, I'm Soldiering On.

As I haven't been out much, I've had plenty of time to think about important questions.

There's just one thing I just can't make up my mind about. Perhaps you can help?

Gail was given these two mugs as Christmas presents last year. It really is difficult to decide which one is nicest.

I think we need a closer look.

One always has to consider a problem from different angles

And take into account all the features. Let's see.

I think the most important factor is the depiction of the Westies, don't you? The 'red' mug on the left features two, but the 'blue' one on the right has three, so round one to the blue corner, yes? But then on the other hand, one of the red mug's Westies has a smart coat, and the other a nice collar and tag, so that maybe balances things out.

What about the other accessories? Here, advantage red mug, where the two dogs have their own kennel, a welcoming robin, and someone has given them an interesting gift.

Oh but then perhaps that's not the whole picture. Consider the weather. Those two Westies on the left do need a kennel, as it appears to be snowing on their mug. Whereas our three pals on the right are enjoying a pleasant summer day, blue skies and green grass.

A quiet voice in the corner here is suggesting that I am 'over-analysing' this issue. And also complaining that I am missing the point by ignoring key features like compatibility with dishwashers and microwaves....

Surely not?

Which mug do you prefer? I'm too tired to think about it any longer....

Quick update from yesterday

2010-02-08T08:13:00.009Z

Gail speaks first: Thank you so very much to everyone for sending Hamish all those best wishes, love and healing thoughts yesterday. What did we learn at the vet? Well apparently dogs of Hamish's age and breed do not suddenly develop epilepsy, so the fits must be caused by something else. A blood test ruled out liver or kidney failure, an abscess, and hypoglycemia. That leaves, worryingly, a brain tumour or a mini-stroke as the most likely cause. The vet does not recommend further invasive investigations for a dog of Hamish's age. He has been prescribed medication to improve oxygen supply to the brain, and if the fits continue he will also receive anti-convulsant medication. He has been taking a short course of prednisolone for the last few weeks anyway to calm his itchy skin. So it's now a game of wait and see, with fingers crossed.

Now back to Hamish:

Hi folks! Well I did feel pretty strange yesterday, after my odd turn on Saturday night. A few bruises too, from tumbling downstairs. Still, every cloud has a silver lining, and as neither Gail nor I felt up to embarking on one of our more exciting Sunday outings, we ventured instead into that terra incognito known as 'the back garden', and I helped (well, provided moral support) with some tidying up work.

And I do want to make my contribution quite clear as it is usually me, who, most unfairly, gets blamed for the state of this overgrown, unkempt and generally neglected patch of earth. I mean, I would show you photos of how bad it looks, but that has been banned, on grounds of 'embarrassment'.

Pleased to report that this morning (Monday) I'm feeling a good bit sprightlier, and am looking forward to a cosy week at home, assisting Gail with this new 'job'. (I have decided to take my friends' advice and not write to her employers about the false authorship claims....)

Too tired - Gail explains

2010-02-07T08:01:00.011Z

There's so much stuff I'd like to talk about to you today - this excellent book I've been reading, my views on rugby and national identity, your comments on my last post, the woeful state of our garden, the interesting experience of participating in Mango Minster....

But the truth is I'm feeling too exhausted to blog this morning and, reluctantly, I am going to hand over to Gail.

Gail speaks: Hamish is an old dog, and his health is deteriorating. Last night we were up for several hours after he suffered a fit, the second within a week. He eventually settled down to sleep, and this morning seems more or less OK, but tired and dazed. This is a new problem for Hamish and we are off to the vet later today.

DO I GET A CUT ???

2010-02-04T07:54:00.009Z

I'm speechless with rage (almost...). Talk about UNFAIR. You wouldn't believe what I overheard Gail telling a friend yesterday!

It was about this new 'job' she started in January. I had been thinking it quite a GOOD THING, because it seems she can mostly 'work' at home, tapping away at the computer, me at her feet.

But now I feel used. Violated even.

Well. I just learned that Gail only got the job because of THIS BLOG. By pretending that she is the author. She even put the web address on her CV. Apparently the idea was to show that she could write in an 'accessible' way, not just as a boring old scientist.

I wouldn't mind so much if I'd been asked about it first. Or offered something in return. A daily meal of fried liver, rounded off with a wee dram of Highland Park, comes to mind.

Do you think I should write to her new employers and apprise them of this shocking deception?

A snowy weekend out West

2010-01-31T20:18:00.023Z

We've had a lot of wordy posts lately. So today I've decided to give my sore paws a break from typing and show you some photos taken this weekend during a very snowy visit to our cottage on Loch Torridon.

This is the cottage...

And me posing in the front garden.

These are the neighbours. One of them is called 'Gail', which I think is quite funny..

Here is the local communication centre..

And this was our road earlier today..

Part of it is steep, so we had to wait for this vehicle to arrive before we could set off home..

Oh I wish the snow plough man had stopped in bed so we could have stayed longer to enjoy the scenery..

So much nicer than Aberdeen...

Dog in a flap (literally)

2010-01-27T13:46:00.008Z

Is there some sort of a group you can join, to protest against invasion of privacy and so forth?

You know that it's been cold outside (less so now). And that my paws hurt. And that I have an aging bladder.

Well, strictly between ourselves, and because of all the above, I've been pretending I can't get out through the dog flap and into the garden any longer. After all, it's so much easier to use the indoor facilities......

Can you believe Gail had the cheek to sneak into our conservatory (if that's what you call a room with lots of windows and a couple of dead plants...) and film this short video?

And is now calling me a fraud........

Mango Minster Entry

2010-01-23T08:33:00.013Z

Hey folks! This year I've decided to participate in Mango Minster for the first time. For those of you not in the know, think of it as Cyber Crufts. This event, run by my pal the relentlessly huge Mango (a mastiff) is distinctly NOT modelled on the arguably better known American dog show Westminster.....

Gail and I looked through the somewhat irregular judging groups for the show, and found that the only category for my breed is called CDIT (Cracker Dog Insane Terriers).

What??!!

Well let me tell you, the only reason I have agreed to participate in this farrago is as a PROTEST against the outrageous stereotyping of all terriers implied by the title and judging criteria* for this group...

As regular readers of this blog know, I am dignified, mentally stable, intelligent and good natured (usually, except at the vet, and on some other occasions....) I do not have mad staring eyes and as a veteran gentledog I certainly do not go in for lunatic athletic feats. Neither do I have obsessive traits. When faced with a problem, I calmly consider it from an intellectual and analytical perspective.

So here is a picture of me, taken last Spring, poised with decorum on a rock overlooking Loch Torridon. A West Highland Terrier in his natural home, the Northwest Highlands of Scotland.

* Judge Norwood's criteria: click on the image below to enlarge if you really want to read this insult to the noble terrier breed.

Recalling a youthful misdemeanour...

2010-01-17T08:44:00.018Z

A picture on my pal Eric's blog has prompted me to recall long suppressed memories of an incident in my youth.

I'm thinking that ten years is enough time for human Granny to overcome her sense of humour failure, and so she won't get too upset if I tell you all about it. (I do love human Granny, so I'd hate to upset her). Sadly, no photos of the incident exist, so I shall have to paint the picture in words.

First some background.

I was a mere four years old then, I'd only been with Gail for three months, and it was my first ever Christmas trip down to Nottingham. Unsettled by all the changes, I hadn't been eating well.

Oh, and I think that to appreciate the story, you must know that human Granny has some very traditional ideas, especially when it comes to having people round for meals.

On Boxing day, she announces that she's invited the new next-door neighbours for afternoon tea. (Yes really, American readers, proper afternoon tea!). Very respectable neighbours these, one Dr Banjee and family - wife, two young children and mother-in-law. That's DOCTOR Banjee, a real doctor that can cure sick people, not a pretend one like Gail...

Human Granny makes some scones. Very proud of them she is too, explaining to Gail that she'd followed Delia's recipe to the last word, and they were the best scones she's baked for, well, ages.

It is decided that it will be a sit-down-at-the-table tea. Preparations start early afternoon. Raspberry jam and cream are spread on the scones, and they are placed on a fancy plate. A lace tablecloth is laid on the dining table.

Not just any old lace tablecloth, but the precious Nottingham lace tablecloth given to human Grandparents in 1956 as a wedding present from their friends whose family owned a lace factory. Human Granny puts the plate of scones on the table and goes away to get smartened up.

Gail and human Grandad are relaxing in the sitting room. Gail is absorbed in a book. She does vaguely register the fact that she can hear me eating and thinks, 'oh good, finally he's feeling better'. Then after a bit, she thinks, hmmm, that is a very loud eating sound, if Hamish were in the kitchen , where his food bowl is kept, I would not be able to hear him so clearly....

Suddenly, she leaps to her feet and bursts into the dining room!

What does she see? Well there I am stood on the table, a scene of destruction all around. The few remaining scones are scattered about the room in small pieces, and my face is smeared with what jam and cream have not been trodden into the Nottingham lace tablecloth.

My head is tilted to one side in my best 'oh but did I do something wrong' look. Gail's face is strangely contorted into an expression that I suspect was the result of trying simultaneously to convey anger and suppress laughter.

Well I can assure you that human Granny was cross!

I only wish I could have told her that they were indeed very delicious scones...

Cute, or just a parasite?

2010-01-14T11:16:00.014Z

Gail has been having words with me (and not just about the 'rest room issue').

I am accused of indulging in vanity and self pity in my last two posts, and have been instructed to "shape up" and turn my attention to more cerebral matters....

Well, let me think. We did watch a most interesting programme on the BBC last week, which I'd like to discuss. It was all about the relationship between dogs and humans. Towards the end of the programme, a controversial - and arguably rather insulting - theory was put forward.

Fellow dogs, do you think of yourselves as parasites?

That's what this bloke (a scientist of some sort, I believe, I didn't catch his name) was saying. He pointed out that dogs are found all over the world in their millions, whereas our ancestors the wolves have been much less successful in evolutionary terms and are now an endangered species. Then he suggested that the reason for dogs' success is that we have evolved as parasites, our cute looks and appealing nature acting to divert human attention away from nurturing their own young and rather devoting their time and energy to us. He drew an analogy with cuckoos laying eggs in other birds' nests.

So, parasites eh? Well personally I don't much like being classified in the same zoological category as a tapeworm or a tick!

Perhaps it's no surprise that this so-called expert wanted to remain anonymous...

PS The programme was 'Horizon: The Secret Life of the Dog'. You may still be able to see it on BBC iPlayer if you click here.

Please make the snow go away!

2010-01-11T16:35:00.009Z

I know I said I wanted snow a few weeks ago, but I've changed my mind.

When I was a young whippersnapper, I used to so love the cold weather. Frolicking about in the park, ploughing a path through a few inches of soft, powdery snow, the sensation of rolling around to gain that 'frosted' look to my coat, all those new and interesting yellow snow smells, it seemed so exciting.

But now.

Now that I am old, I struggle to remember those joyous youthful times.

Last Thursday night, I woke up and it was so cold in the bedroom, I started shaking. Normally, I'm an independent sort of a chap, not into sharing a bed and all that, but just this once, I swallowed my pride and burrowed under the duvet with Gail. I think she was pleased to have me there...

Not only does the winter chill make my aging bones ache, but my paws are all chapped and sore from having to walk on ice and salt. I really could do without venturing outside at all just now.

Which of course brings me to a 'wee' problem.......

Have you noticed how humans regard the indoor toilet as a marker of a civilised life? They don't like going out to 'do their business' in the freezing cold, of that we can be quite sure. So why, please tell me, did Gail get so very upset when I decided to follow her lead....? Doesn't she understand that it's uncomfortable to pee when you're shivering and your feet hurt. And if you choose the wrong spot, you might slip on the ice when positioning yourself correctly against a lamppost or tree. Surely it's sensible in the circumstances to find a nice inside wall or table leg, and a paw-friendly carpet? Especially as us older chaps don't have quite the, how to put this nicely, the 'holding capacity' that we once had? (A problem made worse by the cold, incidentally).

All in all, it seems that global warming can't come fast enough to Scotland. Is there any possibility I could relocate somewhere warmer for the next month or two?

Suggestions please.

Look at my splendid new coat!

2010-01-07T21:55:00.028Z

Well it was worth the wait.

We've been down in England for SO long, but Santa Claus was stupidly instructed to deliver my Christmas present to Aberdeen.

I'd totally given up hope of getting a new coat, and had resigned myself to wearing my old, ragged and slightly too small (and no longer very warm) one for yet another year.

Anyway, we arrived home last night, after such a long drive, and on the kitchen table there was this parcel from Lands' End (which I thought was a place in Cornwall but Gail says is another name for Father Christmas). And lo and behold, inside was a brand new winter jacket.

Isn't it just splendid? I couldn't wait to go out!

Let me point out some of the features.

You will notice the very smart collar, revealing the warm fleecy lining. The collar can be turned up or down, as required. Today, I decided against the Eric Cantona look.

A grey reflective strip makes it easier to see me in the dark, especially useful here in Aberdeen in winter when we have so very little daylight.

Velcro fastenings allow for a certain amount of post-Christmas waist expansion....

Gail thinks it also important to point out that the strap round the middle is (sensibly, she says) a little bit further forward than on the old coat, so that when I lift my leg, there is no danger of 'leakage' dripping onto the material....

It is of course waterproof too. I live in Scotland. Enough said.

And best of all, you will have noticed the personalized insignia, distinguished but discreet, n'est pas?

I want to give a huge thank you to Petey in New York, whose Mom tipped us off about this magnificent garment.

Now we can drive off to Balmoral and meet up with the Queen's corgis, head held high, surely?

What, is it a problem, that it's minus 18 degrees Centigrade around Braemar, with a foot and a half of snow... ?

Oh well, I shall have to stay indoors then, and await my lucrative modelling contract with Lands' End!

Wishing all my friends a peaceful New Year

2010-01-01T09:27:00.007Z

Well I at least am having one.....
Us old blokes (that's human Grandad and me) don't like too much excitement on New Year's Eve.
PS I am having problems at the moment with the computer help. It seems she is busy with family matters and starting a new job on Monday. I can't believe that gets priority over assisting with my blog, I mean what could be more important than me keeping in touch with my pals, but there you go.... Normal service will resume some time later next week. I shall insist! Meanwhile, big apologies for neglecting my very special friends (you know who you are, I think).

The Season of Goodwill

2009-12-23T09:28:00.011Z

You know, over the past year, reading though my blog, I do realise that I've spent quite a lot of time complaining about my 'owner' Gail, and not being truly appreciative.

Well today, as it's the season of goodwill, I want to redress the balance and sign off for the year by telling you about a couple of nice things she's done for me in the past few days. Examples of how sometimes she can be kind and thoughtful.

You've all heard about my sensitive paws. Over the weekend we had a little snow in Aberdeen and it all turned very icy. By Monday, the pavements were all so hard and jagged that it really hurt to walk anywhere.

So what did Gail do? She consulted the tide tables for Aberdeen harbour and next thing I knew I was being whisked off to the beach for a run on the sand at low tide, the only place with no snow and ice.

It started off sunny, but then a mist came down and in the low winter light it all looked very atmospheric, I think you'll agree.

Then we got lots more snow , which looked pretty, but was too deep for my little legs. At least it was soft on the paws and so Gail dug a path to the street and took me out.

A neighbour came round with a Christmas gift, but Gail was busy, so she put it down and then went out. This is what she found when she returned to the house.

She was VERY cross.

But I was forgiven (as I always am in the end) and even given a proper Christmas treat.

So, a Very Merry Christmas to all my lovely friends, and, dogs, please be nice to your humans over the holiday season, they really do try their best you know....

Hamish succumbs to Christmas after all...

2009-12-20T10:59:00.027Z

OK, I give in. No longer is this blog a Christmas-free zone.

Now it strikes me that the thing to do at this time of year is to write a Christmas newsletter. Gail never does, saying she "disapproves of the concept", but I have decided to take on the responsibility myself of telling folk what I've been up to in 2009.

First off, I have to admit that as I'm new to this game I consulted examples of newsletters which Gail has received in the past, to get a feel for what is expected. I learnt that a Christmas newsletter contains certain essential elements, and for this first attempt I have decided to conform to the standard format.

First off, one has to list all one's major achievements - exams, promotions, sporting trophies etc. etc.

Er.... Help! Gail! Did I actually achieve anything this year?

A long silence follows.

Well I was nominated for a few 'Dogs with Blogs' awards for this blog, but was not allowed to accept them on account of "already being big-headed enough". Does that count?

And I did gain a mention in the 'acknowledgments' section of a certain PhD thesis. Look...

Secondly, one is expected to create the impression of a busy, successful, purposeful and exciting life, dividing one's time between high powered employment and glamorous holidays to exotic locations.

Look, this is really difficult. Basically, my life consists of eating, sleeping on the sofa, being cuddled, and rousing myself twice daily for walks where more time is spent sniffing trees and lampposts than in forward motion. Usually all this takes place at home in Aberdeen, but sometimes I perform the same routine in our cottage on Loch Torridon and sometimes at Gail's parents in Nottingham. Purposeful enough?

Thirdly, details of medical problems on a 'more information than strictly necessary' basis are required.

Och this one's easy! Have I already told you about my itchy bottom? It gets really really itchy. So I lick it quite a lot, or sit down and scoot across the carpet to relieve the itchiness. Other areas itch too. Often it's my front paws, sometimes my groin area. Actually I rather enjoy having special anti-itch cream rubbed into my groin, what male dog wouldn't.....

There is usually a section on domestic disasters, related in a way that makes them more amusing than they seemed at the time.

Well let me think here.

Oh. It is being suggested that I am the domestic disaster. That is SO NOT FUNNY, Gail. Let's move on.

Finally, social highlights (invitations to garden parties at the Palace, trips to Glyndebourne, that sort of thing) must be noted.

Well to be honest, these days I really can't be bothered. And at the prospect of company I tend to retreat upstairs and jump up (with the help of a step) onto Gail's bed and remain there until the visitors have departed. That's just how it is when you're fourteen I'm afraid.

Well I think that's about it for my year. I hope you all had an equally successful and exciting one.....

Christmas-free zone

2009-12-17T06:52:00.012Z

By this time of year, I know that many of you, both dogs and humans, will be feeling stressed about Christmas. All those presents to wrap (and unwrap..), cards to deliver, dumb photos to pose for, parties to attend, food to cook/steal, relatives to visit, family tensions to defuse....

So welcome to my blog, a Christmas-free space, where the spirit of intellectual enquiry remains active over the holiday season, and refined contemplation wins out over rampant consumerism.

Sadly, the Scottish weather has returned to normal. But no matter. It is good to be indoors for we have serious matters to discuss today. A new and highly relevant scientific study no less! Have you seen this week's copy of the New Scientist magazine?

Yes, finally, we have conclusive and objective proof, that, all things considered, DOGS ARE SUPERIOR TO CATS.

I have already shared with article with my dear friend Stella, who occasionally has 'issues' with her resident feline Ali Zophia. We both agree that there is much here to relish. I shall quote directly from one paragraph, on the subject of the relative utility of the two species:

Dogs can hunt, herd and guard. They can sniff out drugs and bombs and even whale faeces; they guide blind and deaf people, race for sport, pull sleds, find someone buried by an avalanche, help children learn and possibly even predict earthquakes. Cats are good if you have an infestation of rodents.

I think you get the drift.

If you want to read more, click this link: Dogs vs Cats - the Great Pet Showdown

Hold the front page....NICE WEATHER IN SCOTLAND SHOCK

2009-12-14T16:04:00.018Z

This is me, posing to order by Loch Clair in Wester Ross last Friday. The mountain behind is called Liathach (a Gaelic word which, if you make a sound like you're being sick, you will have the pronunciation nearly right). Yes, the sky and the water really were that blue!

Look, I know I was going on about the lack of snow last week, but, to be frank, if this is climate change, I'm all in favour.

Would you believe we just had FOUR WHOLE DAYS of sunshine over at the cottage on Loch Torridon?! So we went on lots of lovely walks, and I was allowed plenty of time to enjoy the spectacular scenery.

Between you and me though, absolutely the best thing about the weekend, from my perspective, happened inside the cottage and there aren't any photos. Gail's friend Margaret, normally such a capable lady, actually managed to drop a whole steak and kidney pie on the kitchen floor on Thursday night! Incredibly, the humans didn't seem to want to eat up the scrapings. I am so glad they realised that us dogs aren't that fussy. You can imagine how much I enjoyed having my normal boring dried food mixed with super yummy pie meat and gravy for the rest of the long weekend. Thank you, Margaret, thank you!

I just can't quite understand why nobody took out their camera to record this exceptionally interesting incident...

Anyway, as I did, all in all, have such a splendid time, I have once again allowed Gail to post her favourite photo, even though it doesn't feature me (or steak and kidney pie). This was taken just outside the cottage at 8:30 am on Sunday morning.

For some reason I always seem to get excluded from photos of sunrises and sunsets. Something about the camera 'not being up to it'.

Or would that be the photographer, Gail?

Where is the snow?

2009-12-07T08:15:00.031Z

It's December, right? I live in the north of Scotland, latitude 57 degrees 6 minutes N, to be precise. For my geographically challenged readers (and those with a North American perspective), that's almost as far north as Juneau, Alaska.

WHERE IS THE SNOW!

We went for a walk yesterday in the woods by Crathes Castle and I didn't see a single flake.

I have been checking my friends' blogs. They all live further south than me. I see lovely Stella joyfully rolling around in the soft white stuff. The land around the Rocky Creek Scotties' residence is looking stunning, like a scene on a Christmas card. Hoover now blends in beautifully with his background. Jake and Fergi have decided that the best response to a blizzard is to loll around indoors all day in their jimjams.

What do we get here in Aberdeen? Rain, rain and more rain. It's just not right is it?

I gather that there is a big meeting in Copenhagen this week. Gail explained it all to me. I think I understand. A lot of hot air will be generated, then Barack Obama is going to fly in at the end and fix it so we get snow in Scotland next year. Something like that.

Do you think he'll succeed?

Oh. Gail has put on her scientist hat (metaphorically) and is telling me I'm over-simplifying again.....she's blethering on about the Gulf Stream, and how this young laddie Obama isn't personally responsible for the Scottish climate....

PS from Gail - it seems that on some computers, part of this post appears in Greek, but on other computers, including mine, it all looks normal. There is NOT supposed to be any Greek! (Hamish is not THAT clever!) I am investigating. Has anyone else come across this before?

I am worth it!

2009-12-03T14:39:00.009Z

It was very nice that several of you, my dear friends, commented on how smart I looked wearing my red coat in the previous post.

Well no doubt it looks OK in the photos, from afar, especially as Gail has not yet bothered to work out how to get high definition pictures on the blog... But the truth is, this coat is now over 10 years old, and so worn and frayed that I am almost embarrassed to wear it.

See what I mean? Just imagine if I had bumped into one of the Queen's corgis at Balmoral last weekend....

I have hinted before that I need a new coat. So far to no avail. I fear that Gail thinks it a waste to invest any money in garments for an elderly dog like me.

How mean is that??

In which I attempt to visit the Queen's sauna...

2009-11-29T16:17:00.032Z

Well it was a really unpleasant morning here in Aberdeen, cold, dark, truly dreich. I was overdue a proper Sunday outing, and the weatherman on the radio said that conditions were better inland.

So I persuaded Gail to drive us in the Mini all the way up Deeside. What a nice journey that is. You should try it some time.

We stopped a few miles short of Braemar and parked in the Invercauld car park. Luckily, the machine which demands £2.50 for parking in the middle of nowhere wasn't working (remember, I am an Aberdonian....) Anyway, I ran straight down the path to the river. After more than an hour in the car, I was ready to lift my leg and fertilize some heather.

That's the River Dee and the old Invercauld Bridge in background. I know some readers of this blog are more into history than me, so I've included a photo of the sign telling you all about the aftermath of the Jacobite rebellion, Fort George and why the bridge was built. Biggify the picture if you're interested.

We crossed the bridge and entered the Balmoral Estate (which belongs to the Queen). I then realized why Gail had made me wear my red coat.

We wouldn't want a trigger happy Prince Philip to mistake me for a stag, now would we?

After a mile or so walking through Ballochbuie Forest - a beautiful stretch of native Caledonian woodland at the western end of the huge Estate, well away from Balmoral Castle and all the tourists - we came to a secluded and picturesque spot, and found this wooden lodge.

Gail says it was a gift to our Queen from the King of Norway, and it contains a sauna. I'm not sure I believe this (people spout all sorts of rubbish at times, don't they?) I tried to locate the entrance, to check it out for myself. I wonder if the Queen wears her crown when sitting in her sauna? Maybe I'd find out!

But no, it was all locked and boarded up. What a disappointment! So I just had to content myself with admiring the views outside. By then it was snowing a little so we hurried back to the car and I am going to write and complain to that weatherman.

I find a cap that fits

2009-11-27T10:34:00.017Z

By now you'll be aware that I'm not into frivolity. These silly costumes that some dogs get dressed up in. All well and good for the less serious minded, but I prefer to retain my dignity.

But a chap's head and ears can get a bit chilly at this time of year in Aberdeen. So I was quietly rather pleased to find this distinguished looking hat which Gail brought home yesterday.

It suits me doesn't it? The black velvet combines with my white coat to striking effect, I feel. The hat is versatile, and can be worn over or behind the ears. Apparently this style of headgear is called a 'John Knox' cap. It is worn by students at the University of Aberdeen who graduate with a PhD, thus befitting my intellectual status.

Gail is trying to argue that she is the only one in this household entitled to wear a John Knox hat. And it has to be worn with a fancy red gown. But look, it suits me much so better than her, don't you think? (And after all, I did help her a lot with that thesis thing....)

Well, you'll probably have realised that I'm now feeling a lot more cheerful than earlier in the week. Partly 'cos my human Granny came all the way up on the train from Nottingham, specially to visit me for a couple of days! (Oh, and something about attending a 'graduation ceremony' too). And, OK, I have to admit I was exaggerating a bit in my last post when I said I had been stuck in a cage for five days. It was more of a run, not a cage, with a comfy bed and a heater, and I did get taken out for walks twice a day, and the nice lady looking after me and the other dogs remembered that I have tender paws and always made sure I could always be walking on nice soft grass. So it wasn't that bad really, I suppose....

Back to the hat. I was hoping it could be mine for keeps. But it was whisked away yesterday afternoon, as it was apparently only on hire for one day, and I have been instructed not to publicize the fact that I was allowed to wear it at all.

PS. Finally, a message to my friend Fiona, who I haven't seen for ages, but I really like. She's getting married tomorrow to someone called Steve (I don't know him but I'm sure he's nice too). I hope that they both have a truly splendid day, and that all goes well for them in the future. Maybe they'll come and visit me sometime, and bring treats (left over wedding cake would be fine.....)

Discovering my inner Victor Meldrew...

2009-11-23T14:56:00.009Z

I DON'T BELIEVE IT ! .... *

You may have noticed I've been quiet this last week. And maybe even wondered why. I'm not normally one to suffer in silence after all.

Well let me tell you, I've been having a perfectly dreadful time recently. You just won't believe how badly things have been going. How can people do this to me?

As if it's not bad enough that I'm getting old, and deaf, and my paws keep itching. And it's cold and dark and wet outside, and I have to do SO much barking before I can persuade anyone to take me for a walk. And Gail is SO selfish because although she's at home most of the time just at the moment, she pretends she has to 'work' on the computer and ignores my needs...

Yes, and as if all that wasn't enough, I then get driven off to some farm place and stuck in a cage for five whole days, abandoned by Gail and surrounded by other dogs who bark even more than I do. A chap just couldn't get a moment's peace. Can you believe it? This has never happened before. WHAT DID I DO WRONG??? Oh. Gail is bringing up that old gripe about me having bitten one of my carers when she went away in September. But that incident was AGES ago. Surely, isn't it time we forgot all about it? Let bygones be bygones? Please?

Well I'm now back home but feeling thoroughly out of sorts. The whole world is against me. Today, I am unapologetically a GRUMPY OLD MAN.

*With apologies to non-British readers who may not be familiar with the old BBC comedy "One Foot in the Grave"

Relaxing Monday, and the pointlessness of ironing...

2009-11-16T11:03:00.010Z

~~Gail’s~~ My bed.

PS Many many thanks for all your excellent tips on coping with deafness. We are going to try sign language, and I expect to reach the same level on this as I did for verbal commands, i.e. I am sure I shall understand the instructions perfectly well, and shall reserve the right to ignore them totally.

Deafness - no longer just pretending...

2009-11-13T06:59:00.016Z

What was that you just said?

For years, as long I can remember in fact, I have been practicing what Gail refers to as 'selective deafness', but I would rather call an intelligent and discriminating approach to deciding whether to bother listening to humans (especially bossy or angry ones).

This tactic has served me well in the past, allowing me time to focus on important things like sniffing lamp posts and investigating piles of leaves.

The problem is, now I really can't hear very much at all.

My eyes are fine, my sense of smell and taste superlative, my heart not too bad for a chap of my advanced years and I am in excellent voice (as I demonstrated at about 5:45 am this morning when I decided I wanted to go out into the garden...)

It's taking quite a while to train Gail to deal with my loss of hearing. She thought I was pretending at first (unfair accusations about 'crying wolf', whatever that means, were flying around). She even thought I didn't love her anymore, 'cos I was no longer rushing to the door when she came home of an evening.

But now she knows to come and touch me gently if I'm on sofa sleeping, and look me in the eyes and not startle me by sneaking up from behind. And she doesn't get cross when I ignore her commands, and has accepted that I no longer 'announce' visitors. I know she tries to understand that I feel insecure at times, and like to keep her in my sights, even when she visits the bathroom....

So I'm staying positive. Isn't it nice to have the internet! Such a boon for deaf dogs (and humans). Perhaps some of my cyber-pals have suggestions on coping with a silent world?

Birthday treat (being 14 isn't so bad after all......)

2009-11-09T20:38:00.015Z

Words cannot express how wonderful this was.....

(Martha and Bailey - note that I am only permitting blurry photos. And I DID get a treat!)

Haircut / industrial action...

2009-11-08T17:42:00.007Z

A dilemma!

My intention today had been to highlight the cruel treatment I received earlier this week, when a certain thoughtless and incompetent person arranged for me to visit the hairdresser on the very same day as we had the first frost of the season. To illustrate extent of my suffering, I commissioned a series of 'before' and 'after' pictures from the photographer-in-chief.

Then I started catching up on my favourite blogs, and my militant tendency came to the surface. I realized that I absolutely had to do something to support comrades Martha and Bailey Basset in their heroic struggle against oppression in the form of the constant invasion of their privacy by a person wielding a flashy box.

Yes, Martha and Bailey are on strike, refusing to pose for the camera unless treats are proffered. No longer are we dogs prepared to be exploited by our 'owners' by providing, free of charge, material purely for their own gratification!

But then, my 'before and after' photos had already been shot. What to do?

Well of course, Gail and I locked ourselves in the traditional smoke-filled room, ordered in some beer and sandwiches, and conducted a lengthy negotiation.

The result - a classic 50% compromise.

Advice on taking your human for a walk

2009-11-04T18:21:00.014Z

Well, after visiting the RAF memorial on Saturday (previous post) I took Gail for a walk along the nearby cliffs, starting at Portsoy.

As an old dog, with much experience of life, I have come to appreciate the importance of making sure your human enjoys the walk as much as you do. How better to guarantee that outings are frequent and rewarding?

One key thing to understand, is that humans do have slightly different requirements from us dogs.

One simply must recognize, for example, that in the homo sapiens species, the sense of smell is sadly very limited. Would you believe, your owner might just about be able to tell that one of their kind has peed against a wall (it does happen) but they wouldn't have the faintest clue about the identity of the pee-er. Yes, really, pathetic, eh? But anyway, don't expect them to get all excited about sniffing trees and lampposts etc., it just isn't going to happen.

No, what a human likes is a Nice View. This can include historic buildings, such as in the old (17th century) harbour at Portsoy.

Or, with Gail, glimpses of the sea are also important (boring, I know).

Strangely, she doesn't seem to enjoy romping across a nicy soft boggy patch of ground nearly as much as I do.

And I've NEVER seen her rolling around in the mud for the sheer joy of it.....

It is probably a good idea, for long term harmony (Martha and Bailey Basset take note), to tolerate some picture taking during the walk, including misguided attempts at 'arty' shots....

I have also noticed - and in this we, Gail and I, are of one mind - that an eating opportunity at some point in the proceedings always goes down well. (I'm afraid that I failed on this score last Saturday).

But all in all, I think I managed to give her a good time.

I wonder if my fellow canine bloggers have noticed any other odd things that humans like to do on their walks?

Banff Strike Wing

2009-10-31T21:02:00.030Z

You know how it is when you get older. You don't always want too much excitement. My human Grandpa (Gail's Dad) is nearly 88 years and these days he likes to stay at home.

Well I'm pleased to say that, despite being no spring chicken myself (14th birthday VERY SOON - 9th November, in case you're wondering) I still enjoy exploring new places.

Today, I persuaded Gail to drive me 40 miles north, to the old site of Boyndie aerodrome near Portsoy, so we could check out the memorial commemorating those brave airmen from the Banff Strike Wing who died in World War Two.

You see, Gail's Dad was one of the lucky survivors. He was an RAF pilot from 248 Squadron, flying mosquitos and stationed up here in 1944-5. And I guess he had quite enough excitement during that period to last a lifetime.

This is what the place looks like now. Quiet fields, woods and a wind farm, glowing in the soft autumn sunshine.

It was all rather different in 1945.

The mosquito squadrons based at Boyndie were flying sorties across the North Sea, firing rockets on German shipping around the coast of Norway in the closing stages of the war.

Just imagine flying all those hundreds of miles and facing enemy fire in a tiny little plane made out of plywood.

You know what - I am so glad it's all peaceful now. I'll tell you about the nice walk we had along the nearby cliffs in my next post.

Pups save the Planet!

2009-10-29T20:41:00.008Z

I would like to thank all my friends for your, er, 'interesting' and 'creative' responses to my post about us dogs supposedly being worse for the environment than SUVs. I think it is fair to say there was a strong consensus in favour of the notion that our planet benefits greatly, in many and diverse ways, from the existence of our wonderful species.

Whereas we could mostly quite happily do without SUVs.....

Personally I thought ALL your suggestions for how dogs can save the planet were excellent, but the technical support (who claims to have some sort of a PhD in something to do with greenhouse gas emissions) seems to doubt that wiping the insides of car windows with our noses (Jazzi) and not showering (Stella) will do much to halt global warming. She also feels that a statement like 'I WANT MY SHARE OF THE MEAT' (Bonnie) sends out a mixed message.

Well, there is much to chew on here, and the debate is clearly not about to vanish anytime soon (unlike Greenland's icecap....)

One final request, before we leave this topic. Please spare a thought for our friends in Switzerland.

Time to eat the dog?

2009-10-25T17:17:00.009Z

Well can you believe it?

There's an article in this week's New Scientist (my favourite magazine, as you know) which asks the question "How Green is Your Pet?". It says, basically, that having a dog is worse for the environment than owning an SUV!

Some supposedly very clever scientist has worked out, apparently, that the average dog has an annual carbon footprint almost twice that of a Toyota Land Cruiser. Mostly because of all the meat we eat.

Well, fellow dogs, leaving aside the dubiousness of the concept of an 'average' dog, this seems to me mighty bad news. Especially for those of us who live in households where the humans are environmentally conscious and into sustainable living. I mean, heaven forbid that we are all going to be forced onto a vegan diet!

Time for a reasoned response - let's not panic just yet.

It it clear to me that these so-called researchers have failed to recognize that a dog can also reduce a household's carbon emissions. Consider the following points:

As (at least in Europe) it is hard to get on an aeroplane with a dog, we force our owners to reduce the amount they fly, and we all know that flying produces loads of CO2.
When I am in the car, Gail has to drive more slowly (i.e. in a more fuel efficient fashion) as I stand up and start to look sick if she corners too fast on our twisty Scottish roads.
When your human has cold hands, they can warm them up by stroking their pet - so much more satisfactory all round than turning up the heating.
Likewise, many of us perform bed-warming duties too, do we not?.

I am sure that my blogging buddies can think of many more ways in which we dogs are environmentally friendly, and I invite you to leave your suggestions in my comments box. These will I hope form the basis of a strongly worded letter to the New Scientist's editor!

(And in case you're wondering, a cat is equivalent to a VW Golf and a goldfish equates to two cellphones.....)

Wet Wet Wet

2009-10-22T21:58:00.009+01:00

OK maybe Scotland isn't so great after all.....(see previous post)

When will it EVER stop raining ?

One more thing about Scotland that's brilliant!

2009-10-21T18:48:00.012+01:00

Well I'm going to be a little serious today guys.

Something I've come to realise, reading my friends' blogs from all over the world, is just how lucky I am to live in Scotland.

Lots of reasons for that of course (haggis, deep fried pizza, deep fried Mars Bars, to name but a few). I guess the 'Scottish Outdoor Access Code' doesn't sound quite so interesting by comparison...

But in fact this Code thingy is one of the best things about this country. Let me explain why.

Regular readers will have noticed how many lovely places I explore on my walks. Mountain paths, forest tracks, routes along the cliffs and down to beautiful sandy beaches, riverside trails, you name it, we go there.

In fact, here in Scotland, we can go ANYWHERE WE LIKE. Well almost. Yes really! The Government says so. That's our Access Code. This is a truly wonderful piece of legislation introduced by the Scottish Government in 2003. It says that you have the right of access (for recreational purposes) over: "most land and inland water in Scotland, including mountains, moorland, woods and forests, grassland, margins of fields in which crops are growing, paths and tracks, rivers and lochs, the coast and most parks and open spaces, at any time of day or night...."

Isn't that just brilliant?

Now there is some boring (but quite reasonable) stuff too, about always acting responsibly, dogs being under close control, not disturbing farm animals etc.

And of course the code isn't perfect.

Had I been drafting the legislation, for example, I would certainly made sure that dogs have rights of access over any cupboards containing goodies and treats. That would only be fair don't you think?

Or am I yet again asking too much?

A comfy sofa and a good book

2009-10-19T18:48:00.005+01:00

I just love those peaceful evenings when I can curl up all comfy on the sofa and Gail settles down besides me with a good book.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

2009-10-15T18:43:00.016+01:00

I think I may be getting too old for this sort of thing.

My young Westie girlfriends, Florrie and Lucy, have come to stay for a few days.

I know they're cute (especially little Lucy), but, well, between you and me, I do find their company ever so slightly exhausting.

Did you know I'm nearly fourteen? I don't think I do too badly for my age. I really can still walk quite a long way. At my own pace. In my own time. Minding my tender paws. And not straining my dicky heart.

Why all this rushing around anyway? If you walk slowly round the park, you can see more, sniff more, and take time to appreciate the changing seasons. And Florrie, there's really no need to race up to all the other dogs and bark at them, now is there?

At least at home everybody eventually calms down.

And Florrie (inexplicably) seems to like the new kitchen cushion.....

PS Gail wants me to include this fragment of a poem which she likes. Heaven forbid that she thinks it relevant to me. She says it's by T.S.Eliot, although I thought he only wrote about cats....

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

What kind of a rubbish present is that??

2009-10-11T17:18:00.014+01:00

You know how boring it is when your owner just sits there in the kitchen with her friends and chatters on and on and on.

I mean, if all they're up to is having a good old gossip, then they really could and should be doing something more useful. Like taking you out for a walk. Or at very least they should move to the front room where I have a comfy sofa and don't have to lie on the cold hard floor.

Not being one to hide my feelings (but also of course being polite and considerate), I tend to let them talk for about fifteen minutes - plenty of time to down a cup of tea or a glass of wine, don't you think - before I vocalise my discontent with the situation.

Well do you know what? Yesterday Gail came home from a shopping trip, and made a big song and dance about putting this on the kitchen floor.

She kept lifting me up and plonking me down the new cushion. But it didn't smell very interesting, except when she put some beef jerky on it (thanks Marse for that by the way - a lovely present from the USA via Poland).

I do believe Gail is under the impression - very much mistaken - that I might now happily sit in the kitchen for ever and ever on this 'present' while she and her friends are having a wee blether!

I think not.

You don't think I'm being ungrateful do you?

An evening trip to Aberdeen harbour

2009-10-08T21:06:00.016+01:00

It is only right and proper, I feel, when your human returns after abandoning you to various carers for a whole two weeks, that she feels guilty and rushes home early from work every evening and takes you out for better walks than normal.

So it was that yesterday evening we went down to a part of Aberdeen called Torry, at the entrance to the harbour.

Actually, I don't understand why we don't go to the harbour more often. After all, it takes less than ten minutes in the car, and there's so many interesting things to see.

For example - the 'Torry Coo'.

Yes, I was confused at first too. It's not a cow at all, but the old foghorn which used to warn ships entering the harbour in poor visibility to keep away from the rocks.

The lighthouse nearby looks romantic in the fading evening light. Ah, if only Stella were here....

Behind the lighthouse, we have the 'Torry Battery'. Nothing to do with Duracell, rather an old fortification built in 1860 to defend Aberdeen against French invasions.

It was almost dark by the time we returned to the car. Gail said she was disappointed that we hadn't seen any dolphins. And there was me, thinking all those people in the car park, sat with their binoculars, were wanting a closer look at my own good self!

I often wonder what's to be found on the other side of the harbour. I don't understand why we we never go there. Apparently there are 'red lights' and 'ladies of the night'. It does sound exciting........

PS I have been banned from talking about the incident that happened when Gail was away, except to say that Gail is very upset because I bit one of her friends, who was only trying to help me after I had been stung by a wasp.

Polish sausage dog

2009-10-05T19:36:00.012+01:00

At last - the technical support has returned!

It seems Gail timed her holiday in Poland very badly indeed.

Had she been in Krakow earlier in September, she could have witnessed what must surely be the highlight of the cultural year in all of Poland, the annual dachshund fancy dress parade (Marsz Jamników).

What a splendid idea. And how appropriate, that Poles like to celebrate the sausage dog.....

We don't see many of these very short legged little fellows here in Aberdeen, but I do feel that next year, Scotland should be represented at this special festival. A dachshund would suit a kilt, don't you think?

And as for Polish sausages, see what Gail brought back. The smoked cheese smells delicious too. I do hope she's going to share....

PS I'll be coming round to say hello to all my friends as soon as I can. But, truth to tell, I am in total disgrace at the moment after an incident when Gail was away, so my computer time is being rationed, as punishment.

Oh no, she's going away..

2009-09-17T21:55:00.009+01:00

"Bless you, Gail. Gesundheit."

"What??"

Oh, I thought I heard Gail sneezing, but my mistake, it seems she was just practicing saying 'please'. In Polish. And there was silly old me, worried she might be ill.

The truth is worse. Much worse.

I am shortly going to be abandoned.

Home (almost) alone for a fortnight, with only Marie-Therese to feed and water and cuddle me, and keep me company at night, and give me treats. And Yvonne and Aaron to take me for afternoon walkies. And sometimes Margaret too. Who may give me more treats. Oh and maybe some extra walks from Neil at weekends.

How can Gail be so cruel?

I'm sure I'd enjoy a holiday Poland. I would be an asset, don't you think? I travel well, I absolutely love exploring new places, people like talking to me. It would be an excellent opportunity to further develop my role as special canine ambassador for Scotland.

And truly, I speak the Polish language at least as well as Gail.

PS I may have to take a break from blogging for a couple weeks, due to the unavailability of technical support.

Apparently I look cute coming down stairs....

2009-09-14T19:30:00.010+01:00

As you know, I am an intellectual sort of a fellow, and as such, consider certain trivial things rather beneath me. But, to keep the peace at home, I have decided, just once in a while, to allow this sort of item to be posted on my blog. (You have to rotate your head 90 degrees to watch it. But don't worry, the clip only lasts 11 seconds......)

Take your dog to work day (unofficial)

2009-09-10T18:54:00.010+01:00

Well I've obviously been successful in making clear my dissatisfaction at being left alone at home, and today I got taken in to the University for the whole day.

I don't understand why I can't go to work with Gail all the time.

After all, I helped her sort out some samples for analysis.

I thoroughly checked the room where she works at present.

I had imagined it would be full of amazing scientific instruments, particle accelerators and the like, but what I saw was mostly kitchen blenders and clapped out ovens, key tools for the plant scientist apparently.

Gail tells me that the University of Aberdeen is over 500 years old and it seems that some of their equipment might have been there from Day One (and some of the PhD students....)

At lunchtime we went for a walk in the Cruickshank botanic gardens, just outside the laboratories. Aren't these flowers just weeds though?

I stopped at the pond for refreshment.

For some reason I wasn't allowed to investigate the most interesting looking area....

But please don't suppose that I'm complaining. I had a lovely day meeting students from all over the world, and I was mostly well-behaved (apart from a little incident in the tea room, where my attempts to join in the discussion were not properly appreciated.....)

I do hope I get to go again soon.

I don't like trains anymore.....

2009-09-07T20:19:00.011+01:00

Well as if being dropped on the road last week wasn't bad enough!

I went down to England with Gail this weekend, to visit her lovely parents. We travelled, as usual by train.

I am never ever ever ever ever going on the train, ever again. Got that? Not ever.

Have you any idea how frightening it is to be stuck on a train for ages and ages when you're just a little chap, and you don't know why the train is taking much longer than it should, and you can't walk up and down the carriage because it's too crowded and people keep stepping on you, and knocking your head with their suitcases? So you start barking to let everyone know you're REALLY fed up, and you can't go for a pee because a train counts as 'indoors', and it's so noisy, and you can tell that everyone else is in a bad mood too, and people are saying nasty things about you because they just don't understand how upset a dog might be feeling....

Do I sound traumatized? Well I still am, a day later, simply thinking about it. Our 6 hour journey to Nottingham took almost double that, both there and back, and PLEASE don't give me all those excuses about floods on the line and signal failures, I don't want to hear them.

I hereby withdraw my application to be special canine ambassador for Scotland, until SOMEONE DOES SOMETHING ABOUT THE TRAINS.

I am so pleased to be back in Aberdeen. And I must say that it was nice to find these beautiful flowers and a card from Yvonne waiting for me on the kitchen table. Well, Gail seems to like them anyway (I confess I would have preferred some liver, or a bone perhaps....)

Oh, and I'm happy to report that my paw is feeling totally fine again now.

So sorry (sort of....)

2009-09-03T10:02:00.014+01:00

I want to tell you about an incident that occurred last Sunday, after my walk. And to ask you to judge who was in the wrong. And whether I really should have been made to apologize...

It happened like this.

Gail was out in the street washing the car. I was stood by, as usual diligently performing my quality control function. Then I saw our neighbour Yvonne, across the road, getting out of a strange car. So naturally I rushed over to see what was up. (You have to understand that we live in a very quiet street). Gail shouted at me but I ignored her.

Then, much to my surprise, Yvonne picked me up and started to walk back towards Gail. But she picked me up ALL WRONG. I didn't like that at all so I struggled and she dropped me! From a great height! Right in the middle of the road! I fell hard on my left front paw. It REALLY hurt. I barked, loudly, of course. Yvonne leant over to pat me but I was frightened and so sort of bit her on the hand. But I didn't hurt her nearly as much as she hurt my leg. I was still limping the next day.

Yvonne has a big dog - a flat coated retriever called Jake. She says that she forgot I had such short legs. That's not my fault is it?

Well anyway, the next day Gail made me buy some flowers and go round to Yvonne's house with them to say sorry.

Was that fair?

PS I have been told to add that Yvonne is a very nice lady who sometime takes me for walks when Gail is busy.

An old dog with something to prove

2009-08-31T18:35:00.036+01:00

It has been suggested that my views on paying for doctors and vets (see previous post) are overly simplistic, and that I should stick to what I do best. Which is accompanying Gail on walks in scenic places, and sniffing things.

Just for once, I'm going to follow the advice (it won't last, after all, what's a blog, if you can't be a bit controversial now and then......?)

Well this weekend, I decided I had something to prove. You know how us older fellows can find it hard to accept that our glory days are behind us. I certainly resent any implication that I am fit these days only for short strolls to the park and back.

So I persuaded Gail to take me up Millstone Hill. Just south of that famous Aberdeenshire landmark, Bennachie, it's a favourite haunt of my youth, and I knew that the heather would be looking pretty at this time of year.

I was so sure I could still manage to get to the top.

At the start, you have to climb some steps up through a conifer plantation. No problem, although the steps do go on for quite a long time....

A bit higher, the trees are mostly birch and Scots pine, and you start to see the heather.

A granite boulder makes for a good vantage point from where to admire the view over the valley. And if you're thinking that maybe I needed to stop and catch my breath at this point, well you're JUST WRONG.

In fact, I was going so fast that I had to keep stopping to look round and check that Gail was keeping up (she is fifty you know...)

As you can see here, I had absolutely no problem scrambling over the larger rocks on the path.

When you get even higher up, there's more heather and fewer trees. So much heather in fact, a small dog could almost disappear in it.

Gail kept making me stop to pose for photos. I didn't want to stop, really.....

Approaching the top, I was still going strong(ish).

Eventually I reached the summit. As on most Scottish hills, you can tell you're at the top 'cos there's a pile of stones (technical term, a cairn, as in cairn terrier, Petey). OK, I'll admit, I was by then ready for some refreshment.

And as it was quite a warm afternoon (for Scotland that is...), and the pool was so handy, I felt the need to cool off my underside. This was the result...photogenic or what?

I really don't understand why Gail had a problem with this look....

But for some reason I was banned from the next photo on the way down.

Then forced to sit so that the muddy bits weren't too visible.

Now I will admit, that by the end of the walk, my paws were getting a little sore, so it came as a relief to find a soft grassy stretch.

Then, just before we returned to the car, I saw a building that looked very interesting, and went straight inside. They had all sorts of fine animals in there. I felt right at home.

Well all in all I had a splendid time, and the fact that it took us nearly three hours to complete a walk of under four miles was of course due to Gail taking all those pictures and ABSOLUTELY NOT ON ANY ACCOUNT because I'm old and slow....

An NHS for dogs? (a political interlude)

2009-08-29T17:24:00.008+01:00

Lying on my comfy sofa, I have plenty of time to think about things.

This week, I've been wondering why Gail always complains that it costs so much money when I go to the vet. She comes out muttering about how having me has made her so grateful for the National Health Service.

I never understood what she was on about until a couple of days ago, when I found time to read a newspaper that was lying around. And, do you know what, doggie friends? When Gail goes to the human vet, she doesn't have to pay anything at all! This National Health Service thing means that everyone in Scotland gets treated for free, however sick they are. What a good idea, don't you think? The only catch being, it doesn't work if you are a dog......

Then I read some more and found out that over on the other side of the Pond, humans are treated like dogs, and they do have to pay.

It's all very confusing isn't it?

In truth, mostly just a couch potato these days....

2009-08-24T19:18:00.011+01:00

I do want to apologize for having given the wrong impression in my previous post. It was never my intention to claim that my many and varied skills include surfing.....The picture that caused the confusion came from a silly calendar.

The reality is, I find waves scary.

So, dear Stella, there is no need at all to worry about me overtaxing my aging body. I am quite happy spending most of my time just relaxing on the sofa.

Congrats Ben - Westies can surf too...

2009-08-21T20:54:00.023+01:00

See this young man here? The one on the left, showing his 'appreciation' of his father's newly acquired accordion playing skills. He's called Ben and he's Gail's godson. And he's just passed his 'A' levels, all with grade A. Which means, for those of you unfamiliar with the English education system, that he's altogether brilliant, clever, hard-working, handsome, witty, kind, brilliant (did I say that already?) etc. etc. It's a bit like winning all the rosettes at a dog show, only better.

So Ben will shortly be off to Exeter University to read history. And Ben, I shall try not to take it personally, the fact that you have chosen to study in a city that is about as far away from Aberdeen as it is possible to be while remaining the UK. I understand that your choice of place to study was dictated by the proximity of excellent surfing beaches - oh apologies - I meant to say the high academic standards of Exeter's history department.

And perhaps I can come to visit some time? Please? After all, it seems that Westies can learn to surf too......

Yoga instruction

2009-08-20T21:39:00.006+01:00

As you know I'm a knowledgeable and helpful kind of a chap. Gail likes to do yoga sometimes, but she doesn't always get the positions quite correct

Luckily I'm there to check up the arms and legs are in the right place.

P.S. Thanks to Marie-Therese for the photos/videos. She's sharing our home now, so you'll probably be hearing more about her...

A harbour, a memorial, a castle and a Scottish culinary mecca..

2009-08-16T15:57:00.028+01:00

You know, one of the great things about having a blog is that it encourages Gail to take me out on walks to interesting places once in a while.

The downside, of course, is that she always takes a camera and pushes me around, trying to get me to pose, usually in the one place where there is nothing interesting to sniff.

Oh well.

Today, we drove fifteen miles south to Stonehaven and started the walk at the harbour. We followed the sign to Dunnottar Castle. One and a half miles! Would I make it on such a hot day? (21 degrees Centrigrade, that's 70 degrees Fahrenheit in American money).

On the first hill you get a nice view back down over all the boats.

Then it's along the coast to the War Memorial. Would I find a way through the gate?

Yes I did. Of course. Up at the memorial, Gail told me to think of all those brave men who fought and died in the two World Wars so we could enjoy our freedoms today. And I pretended to do that....(but really was wondering about the dogs that had been there before me, and making sure that I left my mark too).

After the war memorial, Gail made me pose by some thistles. Something to do with trying to make me look stereotypically Scottish I think. As if being a Westie called Hamish wasn't enough.....

Then the castle came into view. Even I can see that it's a rather spectacular spot.

The rabbit droppings looked interesting too...

Oh. Gail is telling me that readers won't want to see a picture of rabbit droppings. But you do, don't you? Go on, please write and tell me. Prove me right and Miss "smarty-pants-know-it-all-just-passed-her-viva-for-her-PhD-thingy" wrong....

So, on to the castle. Impressive eh?

Even better, dogs are allowed inside. And at no extra charge.

OK, it does say we have to be on a lead.

But we didn't see anything that said the other end of the lead has to be attached to a human...

I got to explore the castle inside and out. It's hundreds of years old and so has lots of history. No I'm not going to explain it all Gail, haven't readers heard of Google or Wikipedia! I will say I wasn't too impressed with the interior furnishings. No comfy sofas in the olden days, I note.

And the kitchen was a bit disappointing too.

It seemed a long, long way back to Stonehaven.

I was hot, tired and a bit shaky, and so greatly relieved when the harbour came into view again.

We finished off the day with a stop at a place that is very dear to the hearts of Scottish gourmets (Gail says I mean BAD FOR the hearts of...etc).

PS Many of you have been asking about my itchy skin. It's much better, thank you. We don't know if it was the steroids that did the trick or dear Asta's porridge and Talisker bath...

My tree

2009-08-14T08:27:00.006+01:00

Do you have a tree?

This is mine. My own personal sycamore.

OK, in the parallel human universe (see I'm still working on the multiverse hypothesis, Nobel Prize pending), Aberdeen City Council lay claim to the sycamore, which stands in the street directly outside my house.

But in the dog world, the tree belongs to me, no doubt about it. To make sure it stays that way, the first thing I do each morning after breakfast (Gail's and mine) is to rush out the front door and (how to put this delicately?) ensure the base of the trunk is liberally sprayed with all that I have saved up overnight.

There are other neighbours out there (you know who you are, flat-coated retriever Jake from no. 8, sleek greyhound Marcelle and fellow Westie Jock, both who live just up the road, next door's springer spaniel Molly, to name but a few) who will trespass on my property and leave their mark.

But I am a terrier, ever vigilant.

My predecessors

2009-08-10T19:07:00.020+01:00

Readers may not be aware that I'm a 'first dog'. Before me, Gail's biggest pet had been a guinea pig (the much loved and long lived Arthur, 1967-75).

I can't show you a picture of Arthur - at least not until we acquire a decent scanner - but I would like to introduce you to some of my inanimate predecessors, who I'm pleased to say are still around today.

This is Mr and Mrs Teddy. Quite the old married couple, don't you think?

Mr Teddy used to play a tune, if you wound him up, but nowadays he just has a patch on his back covering where the key used to go in.

All the rather splendid clothes worn by these teddy bears were knitted and sewn many many years ago by various members of Gail's family. Special mention should go to Mr Teddy's scarf, a one-off contribution from big brother Max (who long since gave up knitting for accountancy and who, as far as we are aware, does not read this blog!)

Uncle Edward the Elephant, pictured right, was also the beneficiary of Gail's relatively short-lived enthusiasm for knitting. It was thoughtful of her, don't you think, to fashion such a fine trunk warmer, mindful of the fact that winters in the UK are so much colder than in his native Africa. I try not to be jealous of Edward, who still shares a bed with Gail, as I am a rationalist, remember, and it would be stupid to envy a non-sentient object, wouldn't it?

As for Sammy the Seal, I have taken care to photograph his 'good side'. I'm afraid that this young fellow's nose was badly burned in an unfortunate accident involving a gas fire, some time around 1965, and he may still be a little self conscious about his looks...Oops, sorry, forgot to be rational there for a minute!

Now some of my canine blogging friends, I have come to realise, do not treat their own stuffed animals with the respect they surely deserve. Fortunately, my scientific interests do not include dissection, or dismemberment, and as you can see, the Teddy duo, Edward and Sammy are all quite safe in my paws.

Dactylis versus Plantago...

2009-08-06T17:53:00.021+01:00

So. This 'job' Gail has. She took me along the other day. Didn't look like work to me.

I mean, she and this bunch of other 'researchers' stood around in this beautiful walled garden all day, up at Mar Lodge in the Cairngorm Mountains, and in between tea breaks, they carried plant pots back and forth and sometimes poured stuff into the pots.

Oh. It seems I'm going to get a lecture from Gail. I have got hold of the wrong end of the stick apparently.

This is a VERY IMPORTANT SCIENTIFIC experiment. It's all about a competition for resources between two plants. Dactylis (that's a grass) and Plantago (er, that's a bit like a banana, or something??)

See, here are the two plants in a pot. No, it doesn't look like any sort of a contest to me either. Perhaps it's easier to think of it in terms of two dogs of different breeds competing for food from the same bowl. I'm imagining my friends Kira and Scampi. For those of you who don't know them, that's a Siberian husky and a border collie. Which one ends up with the most food? Does it make any difference whether they're both standing on top of a hill or not. I'm sure it all makes sense to you now.....If not, perhaps you might like to tell me your own ideas on how the experiment could be improved.....

Gail was working with a very nice lady called Miranda. That's her in the floppy hat. I know she's nice because she gave me some of her lunch. Unlike one other chap there who kept a very tight hold on his ham sandwich. Some people are so selfish.

So soothing...

2009-08-04T10:15:00.007+01:00

The question is, was it because of the vet's itchy skin tablets that I was all comfy and content in my last posting?

Or was it the porridge bath that my New York friend Asta so kindly prepared??

(Almost) Still Life

2009-08-01T16:39:00.008+01:00

Music courtesy of the Patrick Kunka Quartet

Pleased to report that I'm feeling happier (and less itchy).

The 'dogs with blogs' itchy skin cure...

2009-07-29T18:34:00.017+01:00

These vets then. How many years is it they train? Ages and ages anyway.

So you'd think they'd come up with some good ideas when you tell them your skin's all itchy. I mean, I've had so many interesting suggestions from my bloggie pals this week.

In fact, I devised my own treatment plan, based on all your kind comments to my last post.

Hamish skin cure (courtesy of dogs-with-blogs)

As my paws are sore, I need to be taken everywhere in a bicycle basket, like Petey, which means also that I shall be out in the open air and so can more easily receive all those good vibes, get well energies, extra healing smoochies etc. (The ones sent from over the Pond or below the equator may be a little weak by the time they reach Eastern Scotland).

My first stop will be with new pal Eric Square Dog in London, where together we will sip eighteen year old Macallan whisky, wear knotted hankerchiefs on our heads to reinforce our 'old buffer' status, and perhaps take up Hoover's suggestion and wallow in a soothing bath of porridge. (If only Gail had Petey's Mom's artistic abilities - but you will just have to imagine the scene).

Next stop will be at dear friends Martha and Bailey Basset, as I understand they have arranged to win the lottery and kindly offered to share some of the money with Gail so she no longer has to go to that horrid 'work'.

Then there is some special healing cream stuff to pick up from Ludo.

We shall steer clear of the acupuncturist though (sorry Lisa). I mean, that's like being vaccinated, but a hundred times over all at once surely?

Last but not least, we shall visit with Stella, 'cos she is so lovely, and I just know that if I could spend time with her, I would feel much, much better right away.

So. Sounds pretty good, my plan, right? Why on earth then did the vet just give me all these boring old pills....

Grumpy Old Dog...

2009-07-26T10:09:00.010+01:00

Oh dear, I am feeling out of sorts this week. Things are not going my way.

I've become so used to having Gail all to myself, but it seems that I have a rival for her attention - this horrible 'job' business.

What's worse, I've come over all itchy, and can't stop chewing myself. Look at my poor paw...

(I told Gail to post a picture of my itchy groin area too, but she reminded me that this is a family blog).

And when I went for a walk with my friends Lucy and Florrie yesterday, on the beach at St. Cyrus, OK, it was fun to start with....

But before too long I started to feel my age, and eventually I came over all shaky and had to be carried. Which is just wee bit humiliating.

And now it's Sunday and pouring with rain and I haven't even been taken for a walk round the block yet.

Please post some nice comments to cheer me up.

PS From Gail - Hamish is going to the V-E-T about his skin problems on Tuesday.

Looking for food...

2009-07-22T20:05:00.015+01:00

I decided to help Gail find some dinner last weekend. We are 65 miles from a supermarket when we stay at the Loch Torridon cottage, so my hunting instincts come to the fore.

First, I tracked down some mussels. (Now that I'm getting on a bit, I do find that hunting is easier when the prey is fixed to a rock).

The sheep looked delicious, but I'm not allowed to chase them. Something to do with a local farmer being handy with the shotgun apparently. And anyway, they can run away pretty fast, those sheep - longer legs then me, you know....

Now, much as I love bones, even I would have to admit that this skull I found maybe wouldn't make for a filling meal. (By the way, can any budding anatomist out there tell me if it's an ex-sheep or an ex-deer?)

Finally, in the woods, I found some of these yellow fungus-y thingies. Lots and lots of them in fact. Not my cup of tea at all, but Gail was unaccountably excited.

Back at the cottage, I had a little snooze whilst Gail, drenched in super-strength insect repellent AND wearing a midge net over her head, went out into the garden to pick some more human-only stuff (cherries and blackcurrants).

Well Gail seemed to think we'd gathered a fine old feast.

But I checked the goods out quite carefully.

And then decided to opt for a liquid dinner....

Playing second fiddle

2009-07-19T21:42:00.013+01:00

Well first I'd like to thank all of those readers who were so supportive of my job application last week. I haven't had any response yet, but paws crossed eh?

I did point out how my presence can greatly enhance most photographs of the Scottish landscape. Now, lest anyone accuse me of being big-headed (it does happen from time to time), today I will concede, that just occasionally, the view itself, without me, suffices.

For example, Gail and I drove over to the West Coast on Friday evening and at about quarter to ten we saw the sun setting in spectacular fashion over Loch Maree*.

Some French tourists stopped at the same viewpoint, and insisted taking a snap of Gail and me. But, to be honest, it's not such a good picture is it? With the camera focused on the two of us, the drama in the skies is somewhat diminished (and you can barely even make out the loch).

And here's another shot, taken five miles further down the road. The mountain is Slioch, which contrary to appearances is not a live volcano. I don't expect anyone looking at this photograph will be saying "but where's the Westie?"

I trust that this post will demonstrate to my potential employers at the Scottish Tourist Board that I do have some sense of proportion regarding my place in the scheme of things. Although, come to think of it, had it been just me, not Gail too, in that rather mediocre photo.........

*Hint for would-be tourists to Scotland. Loch Maree, in Wester Ross, is less famous but infinitely more beautiful than Loch Ness, in my humble opinion!

[PS In the parallel dog blogosphere universe, congratulations to Rosie and Petey - great wedding!]

Something to chew on....

2009-07-15T08:19:00.008+01:00

Well what with awaiting the response to my job application (previous post) and Petey's stag night providing new data for my parallel universe theory (29th June post), there's been a lot to chew over this week. Good job Gail had a nice meaty ham knuckle handy....

Job application...

2009-07-11T16:50:00.017+01:00

What with Gail going out to work again and all that, I think it's time that I made some contribution to household expenses, so this week I have decided to apply for a job.....

Dear High Heid Yin of Scottish Tourism,

I would like to apply for the (as yet unadvertised) position of Special Canine Ambassador for the Scottish Tourist Industry. I feel fully confident that I have the skills necessary to promote our magnificent country to potential visitors from overseas, for the following reasons:

Over the past year, my blog about life in Scotland (www.hamishthewestie.blogspot.com) has attracted an international following on the 'dogs with blogs' network, and many readers have commented on the beauty of our landscape, which, as you can see from the photo montages below, is much enhanced if a good-looking dog (i.e. me) is prepared to pose in the foreground.
As a relatively elderly citizen, I have much wisdom to impart, but I can also honestly claim that my enthusiasm for exploring new places is undiminished, my appetite for investigating and writing about our mountains, lochs, forests, beaches, parks, castles, historic cities, knows no bounds (so long as the ground surface is gentle on the paws of course...)
I consider myself a dog of high integrity, but I am also aware that the role of ambassador does require a degree of tact, so please rest assured that in the course of my duties, I would be willing to, how shall we put it, draw a veil over some of the less attractive aspects of life in this part of the world. It really is not necessary to draw attention to our unique insect population is it? And the undeniable dampness of our climate can be presented in a positive light as beneficial to the skin tones of folk of a certain age. We need not let on that deep fried pizza is a more popular dish than our finest wild salmon...
I can expound at great length on the exceptionally dog-friendly nature of our country, which will surely appeal to many potential visitors. How many people know that on Scotrail trains, the staff often carry around special supplies of shortbread to feed travelling pooches? Have you heard about the delicatessen in Auchterarder that offered me a little ice-cream cone, FREE, to go with the big one sold to my human? I could go on.
I recognise that some visitors will have a certain (misguided, in my view) expectations about tartan wearing, bagpipe playing and that sort of thing, and I shall be prepared, as I hope is clear from the photo at the head of this letter, to pander to these notions of Scottishness, but only provided that a clearly defined nutritional incentive programme is in place....

Should you require further confirmation of my qualifications for the ambassador position, I shall be pleased to supply references from my many friends in the USA and beyond, who will I am sure attest to my capacity to present our country as a delightful place to visit.

I look forward to your prompt response,

Yours faithfully,

Hamish Westie,

Aberdeen.

Do you think I'm in with a chance?

Home alone......

2009-07-08T18:44:00.009+01:00

"Money doesn't grow on trees you know Hamish".

What sort of a statement is that? Of course I know money doesn't grow on trees. It grows in those little machines you find in walls in the city centre.

So what's that got to do with me having to stay at home alone all day, just when I've got used to having Gail here almost all the time? She's suddenly taken to disappearing shortly after my morning walk, and not returning until well after tea time.

So that's me, home alone all day. Well, a neighbour has been calling round in the afternoon to take me out for a short walk. And at least I can get out into the back garden through the dog flap, and carefully patrol the boundaries, or roll on the grass. Maybe do a bit of excavating too. Or, inside the house, I can position myself on the top of the sofa to look out the front window and keep an eye on what's going on in the street. Bark a little at passers by. And then again, an old chap does need a fair bit of sleep.

But even so. I would like some company. If only I could use the computer without Gail's help, then I could communicate with my blogging pals. Has anyone designed a paw-friendly keyboard yet, I wonder? A bit like those phones you can get for old folk?

I guess I'm going to have to get used to this new regime, at least for a while. Something to do with Gail being able to pay for dog food and vets bills apparently!

Friends reunited

2009-07-05T16:11:00.011+01:00

It's been ages since I met up with my Westie girlfriends, Florrie and Lucy. We all went for a walk today in one of my favourite places, the Forvie National Nature Reserve. It's a lovely spot, with an estuary, sand dunes, a beach, some heathland, and lots of eider ducks and terns.

There is one slight drawback - dogs are supposed to be on a lead. But do you know, we met a ranger who looked at the three of us Westies and said it was OK for us to be running free. RESULT! (Only in Scotland...)

So we entered the reserve...

and Florrie and Lucy went for a paddle in the Ythan Estuary (I joined them later).

Then we had to cross the Sahara Desert sand dunes.

Then another paddle, this time in the North Sea.

Now I want to point out that when I was a youngster, I had absolutely no problem keeping up with these two ladies. In fact there used to be a certain amount of flirting going on whilst we ran up mountains together...

But as regular readers of this blog will know, these days I concentrate my efforts on more serious matters. And also, well, to be honest, between you and me, I did find it just a teeny weeny little bit difficult trying to run as fast as the girls. But I'm sure they didn't notice...

It was a hot day too, so quite a relief to get back to the cars. Florrie and Lucy have a very nice red rug, don't you think? (And a posher car than ours).

But only I get to sit in the front seat!

Let sleeping dogs lie...

2009-07-03T09:16:00.003+01:00

All this hot weather. And thinking about my scientific hypothesis. It's quite exhausting.

Sometimes an old chap just needs to take a break. Don't trip up over me, please.

100th Post (a Nobel Prize for Physics beckons?)

2009-06-29T11:12:00.017+01:00

For fashion conscious readers of this blog, Gail has persuaded me to model my 'best' collar, rarely worn, but fitting for this special post, my one hundredth!

For the more serious minded (I count myself in this category), I would like to share with you my latest scientific hypothesis....

Many of you will already be familiar with the ideas of String Theory, a construct which combines quantum mechanics and general relativity into a quantum theory of gravity. One prediction of this theory is that there are a near infinite number of parallel universes, i.e. a 'multiverse', that together comprise all of reality.

For a theory to be scientific, it must be testable, and until now, a a major problem with the multiverse is that this testability criterion has not been met.

I say until now because, with the help of my blogging friends, I think I have this one cracked!

For we already have several examples of parallel universes in the dog blogosphere do we not?

Think of Petey and all his pals, simultaneously in their own homes and having the most amazing adventures in Scotland. It seems that Asta is both in New York and at the Rodeo in Montana with Baby Rocket Dog and Hootie. Martha and Bailey appparently saw me in Mugdock Woods, when I was also staying beside Loch Torridon.

I notice that the Barkalot Boys have started to ponder this problem too. Mindful (as was Charles Darwin when he heard that Alfred Russel Wallace had also hit upon the idea of natural selection) of the need to establish scientific priority, I have decided to write a paper detailing this evidence, a major advance in theoretical physics, without further ado.

Any further relevant data that my blogging pals can contribute will be gratefully received, and of course properly acknowledged in future publications.

A Nobel Prize beckons, surely?

Oh, and here's another picture of my collar.

Breed envy

2009-06-26T21:30:00.023+01:00

Sorry I haven't been in touch this week. A change of plan at short notice meant spending the week over at our Loch Torridon cottage - great views but no internet access.

We went for a walk on Beinn Alligin, and I decided to see what it would be like to be one of my black coated Scottie cousins for the day.

Do you think I succeeded?

I think I looked pretty good.

But Gail seemed less than keen on the new image, and wouldn't let me back in the Mini until I'd had a cold bath...

Now I have just learned that my friends the Rocky Creek Scotties are having a 'stick out your tongue' challenge. It so happens that I posed in appropriate fashion a couple of days ago, and would like to enter the photo below in the sub-category 'best tongue displayed in a beautiful mountain landscape'!

This final picture probably won't interest you, because I'm not in it, but Gail is convinced that some people/dogs might like to see the view outside our cottage at about 10:15 pm on Midsummer night.

In touch with your inner wolf

2009-06-20T18:09:00.011+01:00

Gail has been reading me extracts from an interesting book this week. It's called 'The Philosopher and the Wolf'. It's written by a man called Mark Rowlands, a philosophy lecturer, who buys a wolf cub and whose life for the next eleven years is dominated by his lupine acquisition. All you dogs out there, take my advice and make sure your humans buy a copy of this book immediately.

Why so?

Well, put simply, this wolf will make you look good. Really really good. Because it will entirely re-calibrate your human's idea of what it means for a pet animal to misbehave.

Well, that is, unless you too did $500 worth of damage to the air conditioning system within ten minutes of entering your new home as a puppy. And in the subsequent few days engaged in "...destruction of all furniture and carpets, with a soiling option also available for the latter..."

Or maybe, like Brenin the wolf, you regularly wake your owner by dropping a dead bird on his face as dawn breaks. Perhaps you also think that 'playing' with a dog involves seizing it by the neck, pinning it to the ground and then shaking it violently back and forth. Or do you like to practice a little feng shui by attempting to drag your favourite armchair out into the garden, and then wrecking it when you find it will not fit through the door frame?

Yes, it seems, the pattern of daily life with a wolf includes all these activities and much more besides.

So, fellow pups, if you have committed some petty crime this week - stolen a piece of cake perhaps, or barked too loudly at the postman - and your human has taken it badly and you feel they need to get things in perspective, then, well, use your computer skills, check out the credit card number and get ordering on Amazon right now....

I want to be carried

2009-06-17T08:48:00.010+01:00

Quite properly, you are wondering where I am in the picture above.

Lurking behind a tree perhaps? Hidden in the undergrowth? No. Not at all. I was at the time stuck at home, alone, with only my itchy paws to chew.

The picture is of Bennachie. A hill near Aberdeen where Gail went yesterday for a long walk with friends. She says I couldn't manage twelve miles any more, and some of her fitter friends think I'm annoying because I'm too slow, and like sniffing things too much, and that anyway my paws are a bit sore at the moment so it would be better for me to stay behind.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks. For one supposedly so well educated, Gail can be weak on lateral thinking.

If the walk is too long, why cannot I be carried some of the way? Gail is strong, I weigh less than 10 kg (just). Everyone would, I am sure, enjoy my company.

Can anyone out there recommend a rucksack suitable for carrying a small(ish) dog? Like the ones they have for babies, but suited to someone with four legs and a different shape? If so, please please please let me know!

A walk along the cliffs

2009-06-14T15:18:00.015+01:00

I took Gail out for one of her favourite walks today, to cheer her up because she hasn't been looking as happy as usual this week. We walked along the cliffs, just south of Aberdeen.

There's something about being by the sea that always helps you get things into perspective, don't you think? So many pretty flowers too - sea thrift, orchids, campion, clover, buttercups. And I was very considerate, allowing her plenty of time to take photographs and contemplate the scenery - I'm not one of those dogs that's always in a rush to get somewhere, you know.

It was a warm day. No wind, and temperatures over 15℃ (60℉). That's almost a heat wave in Aberdeen! So we scrambled down the rocks - Gail on her backside, I wish I knew how to use the camera - to some inviting looking rock pools. I checked carefully for crabs before stepping in to cool myself down.

Out at sea, we didn't see any dolphins today, but we sure heard plenty of gulls, screeching away in their customary ear-splitting fashion. Be grateful Gail hasn't yet worked out how to add sound effects to this blog!

Assertiveness training

2009-06-11T08:26:00.009+01:00

You know, it's a good job Gail has me to stick up for her sometimes.

I mean, take Tuesday night for example. As some readers already know, Tuesday is when I accompany Gail to her little informal 'Deutschklasse' round at Margaret's house.

Well this week a new lady came along. A very nice lady, I am quite sure. So I couldn't believe it when she went and sat in GAIL'S CHAIR. Yes, the seat at table, by the window, where Gail ALWAYS sits! And even more unbelievably, Gail didn't object, just meekly settled herself down in TOTALLY THE WRONG PLACE!!

As you can imagine, I wasn't going to allow that. So I took it upon myself to engage the new lady in conversation. Apparently she speaks fluent French, English and German, so she should be able to understand Dog. In case she was a little deaf, I (considerately, I think) raised my voice.

I am pleased to be able to tell you that soon enough, Gail and the new lady got up and swapped positions, and so I was able to relax again as usual.

But really, Gail, what ever would you do without me??

BBQ - Aberdeen style

2009-06-07T13:20:00.021+01:00

Back in Aberdeen, I am delighted to report that the humans here are too stupid to realise our climate is not suitable for barbecues.

Every summer, in a triumph of hope over experience, someone decides that a party which involves cooking and eating outdoors is a good idea. No matter that the guests may need to bring their winter jackets or risk hypothermia. See Laura, pictured left, she's wearing gloves and she's from Finland!

Well I already have a built in furry coat, so I just adore barbecues in any weather. I expect you can guess why!

Thank you, thank you, thank you Katherine and Dave for allowing me to come along with Gail to the party at your lovely new home.

Fortunately, and despite their apparent misunderstanding of the term 'barbecue weather', all these supposedly clever young people from the university did at least seem to know that a dog's well-being depends on a regular supply of meaty titbits, and plenty of affectionate pats on the head. And if they forgot, I can assure you that I did not for one moment suffer in silence...

Hello, I'm on the train...

2009-06-04T14:52:00.020+01:00

This is so much more fun than just having to sit there watching Gail reading a book.

We're travelling back up to Aberdeen, after a week down in Nottingham with Gail's Mum and Dad. (And yes Stella, that is where the Nottingham Forest footballers come from. And Robin Hood too, of course. And yes Max, you're dead right about Grannies being a soft touch when it comes to food treats! )

Well we saw neither footballers nor outlaws, but we did go on lots of interesting walks.

Some times I was being chased.

And some times it was me doing the chasing. I can't believe I was being out-paced by Gail's eighty seven year old Dad. Well I suppose he doesn't have to stop and sniff so many things...

The weather was much much much hotter than Aberdeen, so it was kind of Gail to find me a nice cool stream when we went out for a walk in the Peak District.

Back on the train, can you tell whose blog we're looking at? (Hint - a famous New Yorker?)

A quick hello

2009-06-02T12:09:00.006+01:00

Just in case anyone's wondering, I'm down in Nottingham with Gail this week, visiting her Mum and Dad. That's them in the picture. We've been on lots of pleasant slow walks and enjoyed lovely warm sunny weather. I'll tell you more in a few days time, when I'm home again and with full computer rights!

Dog food versus Pâté!

2009-05-29T12:30:00.007+01:00

Has it ever struck you as odd, that we dogs just love to eat human food, but our humans don’t in general seem to fancy the stuff they give us?

Well I am pleased to report that this puzzling phenomenon has finally been taken seriously by some (human) scientists, who published their findings last week.

This study* investigated whether humans could spot ‘real’ dog food in amongst samples of spam, liverwurst, pâté, and duck liver mousse. An excellent use of precious research funding, would you not say?

Well, I read the paper, with a bit of help from Gail – I mean how many dogs know what “Measuring the hedonic tone free of bias requires a double-blind trial” or “A Chi-Squared test did not support the hypothesis that the distribution of guesses was significantly different from random (X2=0.433, P=0.9797)” is supposed to mean?

The long and the short of it is, the human tasters could not distinguish reliably between the so-called human foods and the dog food. Nearly half the tasters thought the liverwurst was for dogs, a finding which the Liverwurst Marketing Association may want to suppress…..However, and rather confusingly, the humans did rate the actual dog food as tasting worse than the other meats on offer.

Would dogs have done any better, I hear you ask? Well I suspect that there would be no shortage of canine volunteers for this particular scientific trial!

Two crumbs of comfort may be drawn from the experiment.

First, it seems we dogs will not anytime soon have to start guarding our dinner plates from the attentions of our ‘owners’.

Second, I note that the trial was conducted between 7 and 10 pm on New Year’s Eve, so valuable working hours were not lost. Nowhere in the paper does it state the number of units of alcohol already consumed by the humans when conducting the experiment. I would have thought this point highly relevant and am surprised that the omission of these data was not noted during the peer review process.

*John Bohannon, Robin Goldstein and Alexis Herschkowitsch, Can People Distinguish Pâté from Dog Food?, American Association of Wine Economists, AAWE Working Paper No. 36, April 2009.

An obstacle course

2009-05-26T09:07:00.023+01:00

Some walks, like the one I wrote about in my last but one post, are quite straightforward. Others however, pose more of an 'interesting challenge'.

For example, my favourite place to explore, the path west from our Loch Torridon cottage, could be considered a bit of an obstacle course. But I am an intrepid dog (although old). We were there again last weekend.

First I had to cross a small stream:

Then came a tricky descent:

Bogs, I find quite fun (although I didn't roll in this one):

I'm well practiced at those big gates in deer fences:

And I've always been rather proud of my climbing abilities, although I had to be careful here, as the rain was making the rocks slippery:

There are lots and lots of streams in the west of Scotland (all that rain.....) But so long as I can see the bottom and the water's not running too fast, I cope quite well:

Steep slopes don't faze me, nor does an undergrowth of heather and bracken (well so long as there's some sort of a path).

Then, nearly home, one final obstacle, a ladder over a deer fence. OK, I confess, I had to be lifted onto this one. But don't you think I was brave, standing there on the top, all alone and not making a fuss whilst Gail took this photo!

Back to the road and civilization, surely all plain sailing from here. Oh no, I give up!

P.S. As you can see, it was one of those days when you couldn't decide whether to have your raincoat on or off. We have them quite a lot in these parts!

Dogs before ducks!

2009-05-22T19:30:00.009+01:00

Well I think it's about time we had the canine perspective on the big UK political issue of the moment.

You know what upsets me most of all about these MP's expenses stories? No it's not the tax avoidance, the lying about mortgages, or even the now notorious cash-for-moat-cleaning claim.

No, what really upsets me is the distorted set of values evident when it comes to the animal kingdom.

We dogs are 'man's best friend', are we not? I feel that implies a certain priority should be given when it comes to our upkeep. But what do we read in the papers? Just ONE of our elected representatives, a mere single Member of Parliament, has bothered to use Westminster's generous and ever flexible 'allowances' system to the benefit of her pet pooches. And how much exactly did she claim? A measly £4.47 for dogfood. Peanuts, as it were.

Compare this with expediture claimed by our Honourable Sir Peter Viggers, Tory MP for Gosport, Hants. An unbelievable £1645 for a floating DUCK HOUSE! Yes that's right, a house for ducks. Floating. (See picture).

Now you tell me, what have ducks ever done for the taxpayer? Are there therapy ducks? Guide ducks for the blind? Police ducks or sniffer ducks? How many ducks even entertain you with their blogs?

I think you get my drift. Humans, think about this next time you vote. And chose the candidate that puts dogs before ducks!

In praise of Aberdeen City Council!

2009-05-20T08:19:00.018+01:00

Readers, especially those based in the 'Granite City', may be surprised by the title of this post. Like me, they may even have heard Gail whinging at length about the shortcomings of our local government - the closed swimming pools, the astronomical taxes, the parking charges, the fifty million pounds debt.....

Well today I shall attempt to redress the balance. For there is one thing that Aberdeen City Council really does well. Parks and Gardens. Dog friendly parks, with lots of colourful flowers and interesting places to sniff. Mostly, you don't have to be on a lead in these parks, just 'under control' (ha ha). Duthie Park, just down the road from where I live, is my usual haunt. But my favourite is Hazlehead, where we went on Sunday to check out the Azalea Garden.

Pretty isn't it? Notice up here in cold Northern Britain we still have a few daffodils, and it'll be couple of weeks before the azalea blooms are at their peak. But anyway, I had great fun exploring.

What else did I get up to in the park?

Well, I made friends (sort of) with a cute little schnauzer, I paddled in a puddle, I sniffed some daisies and I went to check that the memorial to the 167 oil workers killed in the Piper Alpha disaster is still in good nick.

Oh and I made sure all the kids were enjoying themselves in the playground.

Finally Gail and I both admired the rhododendrons, and I let her take just one picture without me in it.

PS If you click on the montages, they should biggify.

A boon to the dog world?

2009-05-17T09:16:00.010+01:00

What will these humans think of next?

Apparently the New Scientist magazine* has been running a competition asking readers to describe a Wallace-and-Gromit style invention. This is one of the winners, deeply worrying in my view, from Ben Marshall:

Dog-washing device

VR (virtual reality) goggles and a VO (virtual olfactory) mask are applied to a cooperative canine standing on the stationary Ezi-Treadmill. The solar-powered electronic device is switched on and the canine sees and smells a rabbit in a field. The dog gives chase, which moves the treadmill, powering the washing, cleaning and drying attachments, as well as pumping clean rainwater into the system, and expelling rinse water into a nearby orchard.

I am considering writing a letter to the editor pointing out that us dogs are simply NOT THAT STUPID. What kind kind of a self-respecting canine is going to 'cooperate' in this charade?

*I keep trying to persuade Gail to buy a proper dog paper, but she just won't, and the newsagent doesn't accept friendly licks as legal tender.

A dog for Gordon?

2009-05-14T09:29:00.015+01:00

Oh, I am so sorry if you were expecting another cute dog picture! But we have important matters to discuss today.

This is our Prime Minister, Gordon Brown. He doesn't look happy does he? He never looks happy, even when he smiles (in fact especially when he smiles...). What could be wrong?

Well I have a theory. Let's contrast him with the U.S. president.

Now both leaders have big problems in their countries - economic crises, wars, terrorism, climate change, to name but a few. But does Mr Obama look depressed? Not one bit of it.

What could be the difference?

Well of course we know the answer. Bo.

Yes I think the time has come for Mr Brown to acquire a dog.

We are all aware that it took Barack a good few months to decide on which breed to chose.

Our Prime Minister is not famed for his decision making skills, so perhaps he needs help.

Readers might be surprised that I'm not going to propose a Westie this time. I am mindful of course that many English voters already find Mr Brown 'too Scottish' (incredible but true). There is a danger with English breeds too, in that so many have associations with a particular social class, and that could be divisive. As for a French breed, quelle horreur!

My suggestion is a husky. Hard working, purposeful, handsome, strong leadership skills, politically neutral..... You could even imagine Mr Brown boosting his 'green' image by journeying from Downing Street to Westminster on one of those dog sleds with wheels.....

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This is Gail. Hamish was making me type such drivel there that I went on strike and told him to do the typing himself if he wanted to carry on. Not a success...

A wet and windy week out West

2009-05-10T19:00:00.018+01:00

Well at least Gail remembered to pack my waterproof coat this time...

There is a theory that May is the best month to take a holiday in the West of Scotland. When the days are long, the midges not yet abundant and the weather calm and settled. Supposedly.

Well, midges don't like severe gale force winds, so it's true we didn't see too many of them over at Loch Torridon last week. And it's also true that it wasn't getting dark until nearly ten in the evening, not that there's much incentive to go outside and take advantage of the daylight if it's also raining horizontally. Settled weather? Ha! Judge for yourself from the photo below..

By dint of careful shower dodging, we did manage to get out and do some exploring, and at least the waterfalls looked impressive.

We even, eventually, saw a ray or two of sunshine.

And by the end of the week, I was more than ready to put my paws up.

Such a comfy sofa. Zzzzz.

Home guard

2009-05-02T14:41:00.011+01:00

Here's me on duty, guarding the property in Aberdeen. As you can see, for the times when I'm not at my post, we have a special sign, warning would-be invaders that inside this house resides a Westie.

Some folk question whether a dog as cute as me can be an effective burglar deterrent. Especially when the sign implies (wrongly) that I wear a kilt and play the bagpipes. 'Dad's Army' fans may wonder whether defense of the home front should be left to citizens of pensionable age.

Fortunately, guard dog is not a job for which one requires references. Should that change, I have no doubt that several local vets will happily vouch for the fact that my bite can be every bit as good as my bark!

PS I am quite ashamed about the state of our windows, and have set Gail to work on the paintwork, now that the thesis thing has been handed in.

Dis-Obedience

2009-04-29T10:50:00.005+01:00

Have you seen my Sheltie pal Ludo van Doggy's latest post (Tricky T-day)? Do go and have a look. There are two short videos, both showing Ludo’s excellent progress in his training programme.

Now Gail and I both absolutely adore Ludo’s blog, he’s such a fine and amusing fellow, but I can’t deny that this particular post has caused a degree of friction chez nous.

I see Gail watching Ludo learn all those tricks, dancing on a biscuit tin and so forth, and I overhear her saying to a friend, he’s so clever, that Sheltie, why can’t Hamish do that? And she looks at me like she thinks I’m a bit stupid and inadequate.

I’d be hurt if I wasn’t so mad! I just can’t seem to get my point across, that we Westies don’t go in for tricks and stuff precisely because we are so smart! Any student of history can see that unquestioning obedience leads to all sorts of bad things happening in this world. Independence of mind and an enquiring attitude are traits to be valued, and Westies can teach humans a thing or two in this area. Yes Gail, that even means humans who’ve just submitted their PhD theses!

SO WHY IS GAIL STILL SITTING THERE, WATCHING LUDO AND MURMURING, AH, SEE THAT, WHAT AN INTELLIGENT DOG, AND SO CUTE TOO?!

Not that I'm jealous or anything.....

Not so mellow yellow

2009-04-26T14:41:00.017+01:00

Ow!

Have you ever suffered a close encounter with a gorse bush?

Round about this time of year, many of the hills near Aberdeen turn a vibrant yellow colour. It all looks so pretty from afar, glowing in the cool bright northern sunshine. It even smells nice (sort of like coconuts).

But I can assure you that appearances can be VERY deceptive. Especially if you're a dog with tender skin and paws.

As I found out all over again this morning, those gorse bushes on Brimmond Hill are VERY prickly.

Just ask Winnie the Pooh.

It's all OK when the path's wide enough and contact can be avoided. But in some areas there's no escape, so I just have to stop and plead to be carried.

The famous thesis

2009-04-23T08:47:00.017+01:00

Is that it???

The famous PhD thesis. The one Gail's been working on for nearly three and a half years and finally submitted last Friday. I have to say I'm not impressed.

Apparently someone will actually read it all the way through and then examine Gail on the contents. Between you and me, I very much doubt it! There are 230 pages and frankly it's not that interesting. I didn't spot anything at all about dogs, for example.

Anyway, don't they just weigh these things and then decide? Well, Mr External Examiner, I can tell you that according to my careful assessment using the kitchen scales, the thesis weighs in at over 2 lb (some chihuahuas are lighter) so I recommend that it should pass.

Oh. I am told that not only am I missing the point but also that I am being ungrateful. That the only reason Gail ever agreed to help me with this blog was to alleviate the tedium of writing up the thesis. And also that, in line with my suggestions in an earlier post (although not in exactly the same words), my contribution to the work has been properly acknowledged.

But what now then? Surely she's not going to stop helping me? Panic stations!

The Joys of Spring

2009-04-22T08:32:00.006+01:00

When you've survived the darkness and gloom of another Aberdeen winter, then the sun comes out, even a thoughtful old fellow like me gets the urge just to roll in the grass for pure joy.

Size matters?

2009-04-18T08:26:00.005+01:00

Well I’ve had a bit of time to think about things whilst Gail’s been away.

The issue of height differences between couples has arisen a couple of times recently in the dog blogging community, I note. Especially when a smaller male dog seeks to pair up with a loftier lady.

As usual, and coming from one of the so-called ‘vertically challenged’ breeds, I have an opinion! Controversial? Maybe.

It is my contention that this is one area of life where we dogs could take a lead from our two-legged friends. Think Nicholas Sarkozy and Carla Bruni. Or Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. When the male half possesses a certain charisma, lack of height is surely not a handicap.

So too with dogs I feel!

Normal service resumed

2009-04-15T20:08:00.012+01:00

Well. At Last. Gail and her bicycle are back from Belgium. First of all I want to say a belated Happy Easter to all my blogging pals and to apologize for not having been in touch lately. You know how it is when the technical support goes on holidays.....

I also want to say a big thank you to Margaret and Jeffrey, and to Aaron, for taking care of me so kindly. I know I'm not always very good at showing my appreciation, but I have heard about those prison places some dogs go to when their owner is away, and I'm so grateful I've never yet been 'sent down'.

Gail took this photo of a cushion cover she saw in a shop in Bruges. She's trying to convince me that it shows how much she was thinking about me and missing me. As If. I know how easily her mind switches to chocolate, which I believe was the main reason for her choice of holiday destination.

Which reminds me. Must just sneak upstairs and have a sniff in her bag, before she unpacks. You never know.....

In my element

2009-04-05T15:48:00.008+01:00

Where do I belong?

No I'm not going all deep and philosophical with you today. The answer is quite simple. I'm that special breed of Scottish terrier known as a Westie and my heart is in the (west) Highlands. My spiritual home, you could say. That's where I was, too briefly, this weekend, at Gail's cottage by Loch Torridon to be precise.

I only wish we could spend more time there, exploring the beautiful mountains and lochs, and romping around in the marvellously squelchy bogs, the perfect surface for the dog with sensitive paws. I felt fully ten years younger.

So it's a bit of a come down to be back in boring old Aberdeen, especially as Gail is shortly going away for just over a week, leaving me at home but without my valued computer assistant!

Just like a toy!

2009-04-01T18:40:00.012+01:00

Odd, don't you think, the ideas that humans have about the way us dogs should look.

Anyone who read the comments to my 'Male Grooming' post a couple of weeks ago will have seen that my canine blogging pals were one hundred percent in line with my thinking on this vexed issue, preferring the rugged natural appearance.

Well, Gail (characteristically) decided to ignore the good advice of others, so last week I was subjected to what folks in these parts refer to as the 'Spring Trim', no matter that a few miles inland, it was snowing at the time. Brrrr and double brrrr.

In response to this cruel treatment, humans without exception look at me, smile fondly and exclaim "Ah, doesn't he look sweet, just like a toy!"

Let's be quite clear about this. Being compared to a toy is not in my book a compliment. It's wrong and hurtful on so many levels. Am I some dumb and inanimate object? A mere plaything? A Christmas present for a baby? How belittling.

So I'm not going to post the photo Gail took today. It would only encourage her think I'm proud of the new 'hairdo'. Which I'm not. In case you hadn't already realised.....