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Showing posts from August, 2013

Life (the dogs), the universe (my garden) and everything (life!)

What makes a good day? - One isolated good event, or a sequence of good happenings? - A sprinkle of joy and any pesky spirit of sadness banished to beneath a well-worn corner of a floor rug, where he has to stay until the balance of emotions tilts back down into his deep and dark direction. 'Til then the horizon looks bright. This good day added up as follows number of people who cried =  3 (only three! Three is good. I am often the keeper of the tear- switch and when people see me they reach across and switch it on. On a day when only three cry I finish early and leave work happy. Going home early is always, most definitely good ) number of bars of chocolate consumed =  0 (proving to myself that I can do it. Number of hours since I last ate chocolate - 26 and 53 minutes .... approximately! It's not that I'm counting, of course. I'm just keeping a record. Sort of metaphorically patting myself on the back; well done me. I didn't know that I had that mu

National Dog Day? Definitely.

Wow! An official day for dogs. And I almost didn't notice. Four-legged-friend and Bertie Baggins didn't notice either - no bones; no extra walk; no gift of flip flops to chew (that was yesterday's entertainment). Just another day, much like all the other days. A day in a dog's life - sleep, eat, chase something - your tail, a rabbit, each other, a shadow, a butterfly (not exactly manly, but with a satisfyingly crunchy reward at the end), a wasp (okay ... you only chase one of those once. Ever.) - walk around a bit and sleep again, dreaming of more to eat. And that needs a whole dedicated day for the nation to celebrate? Hmm ... definitely. A dog is not called 'man's best friend' for nothing. Where else do you see eyes so trusting? What else do you fall over because it's lying at your feet? Who else nudges your knee and leans against you thereby telling you that it's okay, things will work out? Yes ... they deposit piles of poo all over the

Tut, Tut, soggy feet again

"Tut, Tut, looks like rain." Tut, Tut probably isn't the first thing that springs to mind when viewing this picture. And faced with bleak weather and a sad-looking symbol of national pride it is unlikely that many would consider a small bear  a personage of sufficient gravitas to quote. However, Walking the Dog was in Scotland ( was rather than is, because was there last week without internet). And Walking the Dog likes Pooh. That sort of Pooh - the sort with an 'h' at the end. A. A. Milne had a lot to say about the weather. He gave Eeyore my favourite weather-related observation , "The nicest thing about the rain is that it always stops. Eventually." And last Thursday, it did stop. Long enough for Littlest and I to walk to our pooh-sticks bridge. Long enough for us to get half way there, along the grassy path. Long enough for us to chat to the cows (we had to shout as they stubbornly stayed at the distant end of the fie

Names, apples, fences, tape-worms and more apples.

Hello, Bertie Baggins here. Yes, the small, yellow one, nephew and self-appointed tormentor-in-chief of Four-legged-friend. It's been a bit quiet on this blog recently due to Herbie's general rushed-off-her-feetedness so I thought I'd stand in and take a turn - share with you some of my observations on a dog's life and tell you a bit of what I have been doing. And shouldn't have been doing. Before I start, I think I should share with you the history of my name. After all, you are reading this, so it is only fair that you have a clear understanding of exactly who I am: Bertie stems from Gilbert. In keeping with my uncle, the afore-mentioned Four-legged-friend, otherwise known as M ... oops! He likes to keep his name out of this blog. Perhaps in case something embarrassing is written about him. Me ... I don't care. What could I possibly do that I would be embarrassed about? I'm a dog! Anyway, Four-legged-friend and me are named after Scottish Saints