Rory

We have walked with the same pack of dogs and humans daily since we were pups. Rory is my protector, and when strange dogs come up to speak with me, he sees them off. He has been known to chase a Doberman away with its tail between its legs. My friend Rory is a big, brave dog in a small dog’s skin.

The River

There is a river where we go our walks, and I swim there every day. I am a natural swimmer, a black torpedo in the water, using my tail as a rudder. I love that river. Mom loves it too. She likes to watch the little fish jumping and the heron standing like a garden statue where it is shallow. She sometimes sees dippers and ducks, and even a kingfisher. I would prefer she concentrated on throwing sticks for me to fetch.

TV

My family spends their evenings watching TV. We have our dinner, and then we all go into the living room. Mom sits in her chair, which I do not like, because it rocks, and dad sits on the sofa. If he gets there fast enough, that is. While he is making sure all the doors are locked and pushing the buttons on the set I usually beat him to it. I jump onto the sofa, push all cushions and throws off, and stretch out, making myself as long and heavy as I can. I will not move. I was there first. In the end he will manage to drag me over, so he can squeeze in, and then we all relax and I go to sleep. Until he needs to stand up for some reason. Then I hog the whole sofa again.

Sticks

What makes sticks so fascinating? Is there somewhere, buried deep in the mind of a waggy, smily pet like me, a remnant of a dark and distant past, when dogs where hunters and scavengers, and a lovely leg bone from a deer or other prey would be a prize posession, something worth fighting over and running away with to gnaw on in private. I don’t know, I don’t ponder over such things. I just love sticks.

The Vet

They took me to see the vet yesterday, to get my annual booster. What a place. Cats, hissing inside their cages, stupid pups bothering me, and worst of all, big dogs who do not respect my status. I completely refused to go inside, and had to be carried. Then I got felt all over, my ears and teeth were inspected and I was stung with a needle while the vet stupidly waved a biscuit in front of my nose. Keep your biscuit. I WILL NOT go there again.

Heather

Sunday walkies in the hills. Smells of foxes and ferns and rabbits! Mom and dad admiring the wildflowers and the views, and I rushing ahead, up the hill, down the hill, into the stream and up the hill again. Laughing and panting and having a great time.

Golfballs

I often find golfballs in the park, and I try to walk well ahead so mom does not see it in my mouth. She worries herself sick thinking that I might choke or maybe even swallow one. Once I found three, and I tried to take them all home. She was after me, wanting to get them from me, and when she caught me, I only had two in my mouth. She did not know whether I had managed to hide one, or maybe it was in my belly. She and her friend spent a long time searching the park where we had been, trying to find where I had hidden it, and when she did not find it, she spent sleepless nights worrying about me being all blocked up or poisoned by toxic fluids inside golf balls. There never was any sign of that ball, so what happened to it? Well, I am not telling!

Cats

Why do I chase cats? Because they run. Anything that runs gets chased. Besides, it is my job to keep our garden clear of cats because of all the birds that come to the birdfeeders. I never get told off when I chase a cat in the garden, but unfortnately I usually go in the wrong direction, following the scent leading to where the cat came from because I use my nose, and not my eyes. Embarrassing. When I realize my mistake the cat is long gone.

Begging

When they are having their coffee and biscuits, stay close. Gobble the dog biscuit they give you instantly, and then stare. Don't blink. Just stare mournfully and hopefully. If that does not work, lift a paw and touch their leg lightly. Repeat. The last resort is to put your head on their knee, and keep staring at their face. I guaranee that eventually you will get a bite of a biscuit.

My Sunday

Great day! Read all about it here!

Balls

My second passion in life, after food, is balls. I can sniff a lost tennis ball a mile away, and my most successful walks are when I retrieve a ball and bring home. Usually they are manageable, but footballs can be tricky. I have, however, figured out that a tooth stuck into one of the seams will help carry one.

Ticks

We have all had ticks this summer, my friends and I. There is a lot of them around . One was removed by the vet, but dad found the second one by chance last Saturday, and they removed it themselves. What a carry on. Stinking surgical spirit, and then mom put her heated curling iron on the tick to kill it. It worked. I have only had ticks once before, that was when we went for a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, where there are a lot of sheep.

Food

Food means everything to me. I could eat a whole lot more than they give me. When we go out for a walk I run ahead on the path, sniffing and looking for edible stuff. Sometimes I am lucky and find a half-eaten hamburger or a few chips on the bottom of a bag, but I have to be quick, because mom tries to take it away from me. I swallow as fast as I can, she can find her own food.