Decision time

Well congratulations President-elect Obama. I feel sure it was your canine support that swung it.

Now it's time for your first big decision. I am very confident that young Malia and Sasha won't let you renege on that promise you made, way back. So, the Obama family's in the market for a dog. The question is, what breed to chose?

Sir, this may seem presumptious, but might you consider one of my own kind? Yes that's right. A Westie.

Let's consider some of our advantages.

I think we can take it as read that the girls will be happy with a cute white fluffy little dog. But think what a Westie could do for your own image. Now I don't know quite how to put this tactfully, but there are some people out there still who see a black man walking down the street and clutch their purses a bit tighter. Let me promise you, no-one reacts like that if you have a Westie in tow. Just the opposite in fact. Little old ladies will cross the road to come over to pat your dog, all smiles, and tell you all about their own previous pets' life histories.

Then, so many Americans claim Scottish heritage, or feel a strong affinity for my homeland. Think how impressed they'd all be with what people often (mistakenly) call a 'Scottie dog'. If you treat your Westie well for the rest of the year, he might even let you dress him up in tartan on St Andrew's Day.

So much for the image. One thing I'm sure of is that it's a stressful job being President. Yes I too have watched the 'West Wing'. Well we Westies are naturally cheerful. Life to us is not complicated. We are not political animals. Food, walks, places to explore, a bit of attention, and we're content. Home after a hard day at the Oval Office, you're guaranteed a happy face coming to greet you and cheer you up if you chose a Westie.

Not convinced? You're worried that your predecessor had Scottish Terriers too? Oh don't be silly. Dubya's gone. That nightmare is over.

Bark for Barack?

Yesterday, all the way from Fort Collins, Colorado, some ballot papers arrived in the post for Naomi. I keep hearing discussions about the US presidential election. Time for me to have my say.

Who would I vote for? Well, let's think. My first instinct is to favour McCain. With a name that connotes both Scotland and (at least to us Brits) food, surely he has to be the good guy? Add to that, he apparently owns two dogs, and several other animals, so should have our best interests at heart. Also, now that I'm coming up for my thirteenth birthday, I can't help but respect the wisdom that only comes with age.

Whereas I'm really not so sure about Obama's attitude. I gather he's promised his daughters a dog, but it sounds like that promise was only made under duress, which is hardly encouraging. And I can't help but feel that dog hairs will not be welcome on those immaculately pressed suits.

Yes I think it must be McCain.

Gail is looking horrified. She's whispering in my ear that McCain has Creationists on the team. Hmm. OK. Not so sure about that. These are the people that think humans are uniquely special, right? And that all species were separately created. Now I've always felt proud of being mostly wolf (can't you tell?) and for sure, if there's such a big gap between humans and chimpanzees, well, let's just say it's not always that obvious to me.

Then of course there's the Sarah Palin issue. Call me a wimpy big girl's blouse of a European, but I just don't feel comfortable around guns and people who like posing with animals they've shot dead.

Well, of course, I can't vote, being a dog and not American. But if I could, I think I might just go along with Obama dog (who has a great video on YouTube www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0BM32lDSSk), and Bark for Barack.

And anyway, who ever liked oven chips?

Dreaming of Copenhagen

Dogs and bikes. Remember I mentioned the subject in my last post. Gail seems to have the idea that I'm too big to be taken around in a bicycle basket. "Now if you were a chihuahua" she says. Perish the thought!

But, on the QT, I've been doing some research. Thanks Naomi for the tip off about the Copenhagen Cyclists' website (http://www.copenhagencyclechic.com/). That's where I found the picture below. Now my eyesight may not be quite what it once was, but tell me please, is that or is it not a Westie? In a bicycle basket. Does the cyclist look like she's struggling? No. An attractive young lady, not Mr Universe, seems quite happily to be riding around town WITH HER WESTIE - lucky fellow.

Do I make my point quite clear? Oh Gail don't give me that rubbish about Copenhagen not having any hills.

Perhaps a continental reader could send me some more photos to help persuade my owner - who accuses ME of being stubborn (pot, kettle, black.....?)

Lots of Westies

Pleased to say that I'm feeling better than last week. Leg a bit sore still, but improving slowly. And I think Gail has got the point that I've recovered my appetite.

Spending so much time indoors has made me realise just how many other Westies there are in this house. People seem to like giving them to Gail as presents, as if I'm not good enough by myself! Perhaps some readers will recognise the items pictured above. Can you spot the real me in and amongst all the fakes? Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, imitation being the best form of flattery etc.

But just remember please. The water-skiing thing. Not realistic. As I've said before.

Easties?

Well it was Westie Central in Duthie Park this afternoon. First we met a Jamie, sniffing the bushes near the entrance. Nine years old, scruffy, yellow rather than white. Then I got entangled in an extendable lead attached to one Angus, a highly strung chap it seemed to me, but friendly enough. Later on I tried chasing after a pretty wee lassie called Shona, but old age and sore paws caught up with me, sadly.

It's odd. When I go to Torridon, all I see is Border Collies and Jack Russells. The North West Highlands seem devoid of their eponymous terriers. Whereas is Aberdeen, we're ten a penny. Maybe a rebranding is due. 'Easties' perhaps? No it doesn't sound right at all - I'll have to work on this one.

It is, by the way, all but compulsory for Aberdeen Westies to have good, traditional Scottish names, and I think I have the finest!

A trip to the hairdresser

I went for a haircut this week. See the photo below; don't I look nice and trim? I do much prefer having short hair - it's one trait I share with my owner Gail. Some people (who may be reading this), have in the past imputed that I'm a bit on the chubby side. And have even sniggered when Gail defends me saying "he's not fat he's just fluffy". It's a sensitive point. Well now that the fluff has all been cut off, you can judge for yourselves.


Trimming us Westies is quite a skilled matter. Not as complicated as poodles of course, but Gail's one disastrous attempt to do the job herself made it plain to everyone who saw me afterwards that some basic competence is required. And I've never seen Gail so flummoxed as when she first took me to the grooming parlour. Simple questions like "does he have a long skirt, a short skirt or the practical cut?" and "will I give his face a round or square shape?" left her uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

For the record, I have a VERY short skirt, and my face suits a round-shaped cut best.

Health and Safety

As a breed, I don't much care for restaurant owners. They promise so much and deliver so little. Most humans will walk by a cafe, catch a whiff of bacon being fried and think "how delicious". Well you may have noticed that we Westies have a rather more acute sense of smell than your average hominid. To put that in context, on a typical tree stump in Ferryhill I personally can detect an average of twenty different marks left there by my canine neighbours. To Gail, it just smells of tree. So imagine what it means to me to walk past those wonderful aromas emanating from the kitchen of a nice restaurant.

And walking past is inevitably what it comes to. Past not in. Oh Gail will sometimes go in. Quite often actually. But do I get invited to join her? You know the answer. Apparently the reason I'm left tied up outside is 'health and safety laws'. I think this means that I'm somehow considered dirty. What an insult! You should see some of the people they let in restaurants. Kids especially - snivelling noses, grubby hands, and what a noise..... And when peeking in through the door, I've notice so many people leave half their food on the plate. What an insult to the chef. I'd never do that (well carrots maybe).

I look cute, I have good personal hygiene (mostly), I don't make a lot of noise (ditto), I would be a deeply, deeply appreciative customer. Little girls like to stroke me. As the Americans say 'what's not to like'. On rare occasions, we find a cafe or pub where dogs are welcome, where the person in charge has the spine, or common sense, to ignore these famous so-called 'health and safety' laws. A nice coffee shop on the main street of Grantown-on-Spey comes to mind.

Fellow Westies, we should start a campaign!