JULY 2020

I haven’t been feeling myself lately, licking and scratching yes but not feeling. Had several visits to the white coated brigade who were masked and gowned and very kind. The Boss and the Mrs left me in their care for a few days and I woke up with a shaved belly, lots of staples and a fair few bits of me missing. I did get away with not wearing a mask but I was given a clear plastic face shield which prevented the Mrs and the Boss from giving me my usual head pats and ear tickles so I am afraid it was jettisoned after an initial trial and I was constantly told not to lick my poor bare belly or the shield would have to be reinstated…a great motivation to behave as I love all the attention I am getting at the moment.

Things were going swimmingly until a phone call giving my prog nose is, which in fact was nothing to do with my nose at all, but turned out to be all about my expectation of life. The Boss and the Mrs have not shared this with me but kept this information to themselves, however I detect an underlying difference in their manner, a sadness of eye and braveness of face. I myself have realised I am not as well as I used to be. I seek constant reassurance and have had to take lots of pills and sleep a lot more than any dog of 8 years should do but on the bright side I have been allowed many more strokes, pats and treats than normal and the pills come with honey and biscuits.

Life is continuing much as it was with trips to the shoot to mooch about with the Boss and walks with the Mrs to visit far flung venues where I have to amuse myself while she gazes at the view and attempts a fair replica on paper despite me sitting smack in the middle of the composition or acting bored and wanting to go walking. However I am not a daft dog and I know I am on borrowed time. I wonder if I should bid you farewell now or see if I can still pen this blog for the next edition….. enjoy your life, you never know what is round the corner unless of course you are a dog with a nose like mine and can smell it.

JULY & AUGUST

1. Me outside my stately home!  Ha ha….fooled you!   (West Green House)

I will explain:  recently the Mrs allowed me to join her band of walking buddies so I thought you would like to see some of the sites I was allowed to see on this five mile hike…. all the training I gave her in April obviously paid off as the Mrs managed the whole route.  The Boss said there was a carrot at the end of the stick and that was why the Mrs had completed it but she carried no stick and I am not sure she is that fond of carrots …

2. We passed this delightfully refreshing looking pond but it was part of someone’s private home and garden so I had to wear my lead and the Mrs had to be attached to the other end.  No swimming today! (Dipley Mill)  I also busied myself trying to keeping my human herd together in tight formation.  They get side tracked by talking and studying a paper with lots of lines and symbols on – none of them follow their noses like I do but they managed to find their way across the land so maybe they do have some superior qualities…..

3.  I hadn’t realised how famous my tribe was!   Along the side of the path were growing bushes of beautiful flowers and the Mrs informed me they were called Dog Roses.  Aha I thought, planted specially for me!  I did try to leave my calling scent beneath but was quickly discouraged and told to just admire the view and stop lifting my leg – this was confusingly difficult as I need to lift my legs to walk so I just kept plodding on and the Mrs seemed pleased enough.

4. After walking through fields of grass, potatoes and horses we came upon another site which the Mrs went into raptures about – Wild Flowers!  I was asked to walk to heel which can be a bit tricky without tripping the Mrs.  I have been warned on many occasions that if that happens she will be really really cross!  So I walked sedately behind her and tried not to mind that tall Wild Flowers make one really really wild as I could not see over the top of the flowers without doing one of my upwardly mobile bounds which were definitely not the order of the day.

5.  Here I am emerging from woodland to find the unusual and quaint Mattingley Church which was built in the later 1400’s – how do I know that?  I listened to their leader reading from the info – dogs aren’t daft you know.

6. The Mrs seemed to suddenly find extra energy and we finally left nature behind to return to our starting point – The Leather Bottle.  I felt satisfaction and relief emanating from her when we stopped our trekking to sit down for refreshments.  I had another drink and the Mrs ordered lunch but I don’t think it was carrots!

JUNE

Well we made it across the Chanel without having to wear the muggle, I mean the muzzle!  

I have been practicing my swimming since but definitely not when the Boss is fishing.  Here you can see I have been in for a wee dip but the Boss has now brought out his sticks and boxes of worms and maggots which he reliably informs me are not for eating – except for the fish.  I keep a close eye on him in case some bread appears from his box of tricks or better still some dog biscuits although we have a running argument regarding whether this is fish food or dog food.  He insists that if it is at the lake it is fish food.  He also has an elastic launcher which he fills with ‘fish’ food and propels it across the water.  I saw him do this and thought it was a new game to test my retrieving abilities and launched myself into the water to catch the arc of food floating on top.  After doggy paddling around for ten minutes with my mouth open like a hoover I was persuaded to come out and sit on the bank whereby he explained that I should not chase the biscuits when they were in the water as they had now become ‘fish food’.  I have heard of magic but that was ridiculous and along the lines of when the Mrs arrives from upstairs to go out with the Boss dressed in yet another new outfit only to tell the Boss she has had it for ages and found it in the back of the wardrobe.  He didn’t believe her and I don’t believe him.  Dog biscuits are dog biscuits, my nose does not deceive me and fish should stick to worms and maggots!  It’s a dog’s life but someone has to live it.

MAY 2019

Can you believe it!?  I am supposed to wear this snout hugger when I go sailing.  Most people on board get issued with a life jacket but I get this!  I am seriously dogged off!

This is a demonstration photo only.  I have already completed around 16 channel crossings without one but being a stickler for following the rules the Mrs heard that animals should have a muzzle and decided to add one to my very limited wardrobe.  To date it consists of 4 things, this, a lead, a neckerchief I never wear and my blanket.  That’s two things more than I need – ditch the neckerchief and this muzzle.

Upon the very unlikely happening of the boat sinking apparently, I need to be wearing one of these when I am rescued to ensure I do not bite the hand that saves me – as if I would!  I only have to wear the snout hugger on board when I am outside of the vehicle and as I am always inside the vehicle I am a little confused.    When on the boat I stay in my bedroom on wheels and go to sleep while my two chauffeurs depart to their own cabin to sleep.  I am not allowed to vacate my vehicular bedroom and must stay there until they return in the morning to transport me and themselves off the boat.   There are a lot of other dogs around me occupying their own vehicular bedrooms.  Presumably if the boat starts sinking someone will rush round applying this contraption to all concerned while letting them out of the vehicles so that they can all swim to safety - ridiculous - I am going to practice removing it and may well have to eat the evidence.

Muzzled!!  I prefer the term mugged and I am not at all sure I can swim with this thing on – best keep that to yourselves in case the Mrs hears and decides we need to trial it in the lake – this could be the last time you hear from me!!

APRIL 2019

This is me rolling in laughter at the Mrs and her fitness regime, which in my doggist opinion is not working.  I intend to get her walking more and more steps.  Every morning racing down the hill for my walk I do not have to do much encouragement as she is fairly brisk.  We walk around looking for sticks, balls, smells, evidence of night visitors and then we walk back up the hill but believe me that is when the ‘fitness’ comes into question…

All the stick throwing, collecting spoor (mine), and path meandering means her energy levels for climbing back up the hill are already spent and towing her behind me is fairly hard work.  We arrive on flat ground again only to have the delicious silence broken with heavy breathing, a heated red face, bending double with hands on knees and instructions to “wait a minute”.  I have to turn away and feign investigating a nearby scent so she cannot see the amusement on my face.   After “several minutes”, we can resume upright again and stagger home where I am reduced to unmitigated mirth again tinged with relief that we made it.  If she thinks this one walk a week is working I am a poodle’s topknot!

My mission is to reduce the unfitness and spruce her up a bit so that she can keep up with me on the hill climbs and reduce the drag on the lead as it is giving me a pain in the neck.   Progress is slow and steady but if I get too barkingly encouraging and start pulling her she gets a bit sharp with the reprimands.  Gently does it with nudges against her legs, the lead in my mouth and a wistful look on my face she eventually succumbs and we set off on another exercise, oops, I mean walk!  I try to remain straight faced but heard her tell the Boss the other day that she was sure she caught me laughing when we returned from a walk – the Boss and I exchanged a cautious smile as he commented on how fit he thought I looked!  Ha! What a tactician.

MARCH 2019

I am alert and ready for anything.  Throw me a stick, a ball or even a shoe and I will retrieve it forthwith.  My ears perk up and my forehead creases and I am at our service.  The Boss loves it when I look like this and he knows I will retrieve anything he wishes including pheasants, duck, geese, and any other edible fowl.  However, at the moment they are all out of season so I am reduced to fetching balls and sticks whether they be on land, sea or lake.

If the Mrs looks out of the window first thing in the morning and sees the mist and rain she will reject her normal walk to the lake and find my favourite squeezy squeaky orange ball from the cupboard along with her trusty ancient wooden tennis racquet and practice her forearm smashes with me.  She informs me I make the best ball boy ever and I get a pat and kind word every time I return my squeaky ball to her.  I am sometimes reluctant to give it up and feel the need to squeeze it several times to experience the squeaky squeaks before allowing her to set up another volley.   I admit the tennis ball which is furry and soft in my mouth goes much further when she gives it her best serve but it does not have the squeezable squeak that my orange ball does when I retrieve it.  I really prefer my orange ball but the Mrs sometimes gets quite cross if I do not relinquish my prize to her immediately and she has to test it to make sure I have not ruined the squeaker. Just when I am getting into this match the Mrs loses her competitive streak, if it ever existed, and is easily distracted.  As soon as the Boss calls that breakfast is ready she immediately says tennis is over, washes and returns my orange squeaker ball to the cupboard and heads indoors and I think “you cannot be serious!”

JUNE 2018

The Mrs spent ages making this.  This is my worried look!  The Mrs wants me to go into telephone boxes and spin round – I usually only sniff around the outside….  The cloak rather intrigues me, I can imagine tearing across the fields with it flying out behind me, rather like my ears on a windy day.  The tights I am a little worried about as well – restricting with my four legs, not to mention my bodily requirements/ablutions and what would I do with my tail?  Of course the muscles closely resemble my own with me being a fit sort of chap. 

The Mrs has mentioned sponges in relation to this hunk and I can only assume she means to give me another wash.  Time will tell what the real purpose of sponges and the Superhero will be at the village fete…..The last time sponges were used I pinched one and shook it with all my might and water sprayed everywhere – over the Mrs who was washing her vehicle and the Boss who was sitting reading his Sunday paper.  I then had to run off to the bottom of the garden with it before I could be chastised.  On being persuaded to return it to the bucket the car washing antics were abandoned by the Mrs and with a crafty look at the Boss, who was busy spreading out his paper to dry before he could resume his reading, she and I embarked on a fun game of catching the sponge which, after each retrieval, was dunked into the bucket to soak and flung into the air for me. 

It turned out that newspaper reading and car sponging is not  a good combination for a sunny Sunday morning and eventually the Boss retrieved the sponge and finished the car cleaning job himself which I think was the idea the Mrs had all along…..

MAY

BERTS BLOG:  As I was saying last month - sunbathing is fine if you cover up certain parts - however at the moment I seem to have been overtaken by the Mrs who thinks I need some protection!  I kept trying to tell her that I was fine without the hat but she can be insistent.  I do have a need for some kind of protection as I will explain but not necessarily from the sun… The Mrs is decorating my bedroom.  At first she put my bed out of doors while she was sanding down the walls and ceiling.  However, due to the concern from the Mrs of not constantly remaining in the brilliant sunshine I had crept back in doors to lay down on the cool floor for a bit of respite from the heat.  When I ventured outdoors again to find the Boss he didn’t recognise me.  After a quick intake of breath he loudly asked what the Mrs had done to me as I now resembled a white, pasty ghost of a dog and not his favourite chocolate.  This elicited surprise from the Mrs who didn’t know I was inside when she was sanding down the walls and she instantly began patting and brushing me with her hands to rid my coat of white dust.  This was such an enjoyable experience that I sneaked back inside again when she had her back turned,  only by this time the sandpaper had been replaced with paint and rollers and I later emerged into the sunshine rather reminiscent of a Dalmation with large white spots……  The Boss instantly decided he and I needed to take a run down to the lake so I could swim my way back to being a chocolate Labrador again.  Just by chance the Boss remembered he had to check out his fishing tackle and together we spent a pleasant afternoon playing by the water.  On our return my bedroom had a perfect white ceiling and the Mrs treated me to a jolly good towelling and brushing which almost made up for trying to change my breed!

MARCH

I finally got my way - walkies in a big way.  Over here in France I get walkies every day with the Mrs and on this occasion we went on a long ramble together with the Boss as well.  It was difficult to decide who I was going to obey since they both accompanied me and both like to tell me what to do…….

In the end I decided to be very diplomatic and used my right ear for listening to the Boss and my left ear for listening to the Mrs.  That did cause a few problems as they don’t seem to agree on many things.  For example when we passed by a boggy area on my right that I had noticed held some exciting smells the Boss said ‘find him then’ and as I was on the point of heading into the depth of the marsh area I heard a faint calling in my left ear of ‘noooooo, not in the mud’.   Needless to say the scents were just too nice to pass up so I tuned in to my selective hearing mode and dived into the bog and had a jolly good sniff round.  As it has been raining  in this area of France for the last three months, there was a lot of damp area to investigate….  When I returned to see how things stood with my guardians they seem to be having a very deep and meaningful discussion on how the Boss could have trained me to have the same selective hearing mode that he himself appears to have developed.  The Mrs, with the aid of a very wagging pointy finger was extracting a promise from the Boss that due to his lax control he would be in charge of cleaning me up.  I knew his method of cleaning me up meant a swim in the lake so with alacrity I sided with the Mrs and her promise with a very wagging pointy tail.  Best of both worlds especially for a Labrador!

FEBRUARY 2018

BERTS BLOG:   Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, you want to go out, you want to go out, you want to take me for a walk, you do, you do…..  Bother – it didn’t work!  Rain, sleet and north wind outside and the Mrs and Boss ensconced in the sitting room with the fire going,  the TV showing another incomprehensible ball game and me trying to engage their brains into getting some attention or more precisely giving me some more walks….  Not a hope, especially not in this weather!

Actually I am looking forward to a good rest after the ‘season’,  the pheasants are now safely looking for partners and testing their bravery on the roads and even teasing the Boss by appearing in our garden cockahooping in the safe knowledge they are strictly off limits until they become fair game again in the autumn.  Such beautiful birds and also extremely tasty.  I only mention their delicious flavour because of a recent incident whereby the Mrs invited me into the kitchen area – a pastime not normally allowed – and to share their Sunday afternoon in the sitting room – very special.

It was during the last shooting day of the season when the Boss was given the dubious celebratory task of cooking the Sunday dinner – pheasant – when the said incident took place while he was wrestling the extra fat butter he always uses for cooking out of the refrigerator.  Despite me and the Mrs telling him that olive oil is better for him he flatly refuses to eat anything remotely healthy and it was this cursory comment on his internal wellbeing that made him twist round to offer a non-healthy rebuke resulting in a loss of physical dexterity and a number of eggs being knocked from their nestling area in the ‘frig.

After the Mrs had surveyed the damage on the floor and delivered ‘the look’ at the Boss she called me into the normally out of bounds area of the kitchen to clear up the mess (I love her).   Carefully licking around the cracked shells which the Mrs picked up, I swiftly and efficiently cleared the floor area of any evidence of the Boss’ little accident.  It was then suggested by the Mrs as a reward to me for being so helpful that she and I repair to the sitting room to watch a suitable Sunday afternoon programme which did not involve a spherical object and leave the Boss alone to get ‘cracking’ with the last pheasant dinner of the season by himself.  Sometimes she is such a good egg!

January 2018

BERTS BLOG:   I have added a new trick to my repertoire – pulling a cracker.  This training proved to be somewhat dangerous and I would advocate it not be tried at home without adequate supervision.  The preliminary instructions involved the Mrs explaining to me with some patience that I should hold one end of the cracker in my mouth gently, but firmly enough to withstand her pulling the other end.  This looked very much like a game I had played as a youngster.  After a few false starts I had the hang of holding on tightly but at the last minute I noticed the Boss was tucking into a turkey sandwich and the urge to investigate overcame my need to concentrate on holding tight.  I inadvertently let go of my end of the cracker resulting in the sudden upending of the Mrs who lay sprawled on the floor with a look of surprised annoyance on her face.  The Boss nearly choked himself trying to disguise his laughter and earned a slap on the back to dislodge the turkey and a sharp rebuke from the Mrs about eating in front of me, especially during lesson time.  During this opportune diversion I quickly investigated the whereabouts of the dislodged turkey, safely removing it quickly and cleanly from the floor before anybody noticed.

The Mrs said she wanted to continue with my training session as she almost had the cracker pulling licked, strange I thought, she had it in her hand, not her mouth – I was the one who had it licked!  We proceeded with another try, this time with it firmly anchored between my teeth.  Astonishingly, exactly the same thing happened again but this time there was a loud crack, paper exploded everywhere jettisoning the Mrs across the floor along with a pack of small screw drivers.  Much to my amazement, thinking I was for it this time, I was completely surprised to find that despite this second inelegant sprawl and the resultant mess, the Mrs seemed exultant and covered me with pats and praise and exchanged the screwdrivers for the remainder of the Boss’ turkey sandwich!  Result!

DECEMBER 2016

Good Grief, is that an old guy with a white beard dressed in red pyjamas trying to wiggle down the chimney?  Only kidding!  It’s the Boss lighting the fire dressed in his Christmas jumper closely followed by the Mrs bearing armfuls of brightly wrapped gifts.  Woopee, I hope there are some for me.  Actually it was the Miniatures who gave generously at Christmas – two bags of doggy goodies, the down side was that I had to wear this ridiculous hat and stay still and not react when the crackers were pulled with a sharp snap, which could have meant I had to retrieve something but no, the only bird at this celebration was a bit of a turkey and had already had his goose cooked if you know what I mean.  

Another down side meant I had to be bathed in able to attend in the first place, but I am learning from experience as the good thing about the bathing is the attention I get afterwards when I have the best grooming ever:  rough towel dry then the blow dry with the hairdryer accompanied by a good brush and a smoothing comb at the end, claws cleaned and teeth brushed. I declined the short back and sides on the grounds that it is surplus to my requirements and I also said no to the shave and ear trim as I quite like my muzzle as it is and my ears are one of my best features.  There was some mention of requirements for the weekend but I had hightailed it out of the bathroom by then and was racing around the garden showing off my heavenly scented body to whoever wanted to pat it, which I am happy to say, many people did.

OCTOBER 2016

This is my ball and you are not having it! So there!  OK, OK, you can have it, as long as you throw it for me.  I love jumping over the flower borders and bringing it back to you.  It is a bit tatty now and I am not sure you could score a goal with it but I do love ball games and so do the Miniatures.  I never tire of returning it to their little feet so that they can give it a kick for me to fetch.  There is a slight downturn to the activities pertaining to my mention of jumping over the flower borders.  Although I can easily clear them with my gigantic leap it appears the kicking and throwing abilities of the Miniatures and indeed occasionally their parents fall far behind in the desired lift and direction.  The Mrs becomes very agitated when this game is played and the cry ‘not in the flower beds’ is often heard lilting over the air from the kitchen window….  Oops, there goes another pelargonium!! 

In between ball games there has been a lot of work on preparing for the imminent shooting and beating dates and I am benefitting from a clearing out of the freezers in readiness for this seasons booty.  I always take an interest in the game stock in the freezer and look forward to any bits and bobs tossed my way that are not required for the Boss. Actually the Mrs is a bit ambivalent about the game stock sometimes and longs for prepacked neat meat from the supermarket so my ears always prick up when I hear the phrase ‘not again’, then I know that whatever the Boss has suggested for dinner will end up on my plate.  It’s a dog’s life – food and ball games, but someone’s got to live it.

JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2016

Belated happy Christmas to all my followers, I hope you had a woofing good time.  I certainly did, with titbits of turkey and lashings of love.  After sniffing all the presents under the tree to ensure none of them had bones inside I retired to my bed to listen out for distant sleigh bells and then checked the garden for reindeer droppings – didn’t find any. 

The miniatures put in an appearance, all five of them and showed me how to open presents with the utmost alacrity and speed, almost as quickly as I excavate the garden when searching for my buried bones.  The end result was very similar – great joy! 

The Boss and I are now deep into the shooting season and I have proudly retrieved many pheasants and partridge for him.  It is the time of year I love the most from when he appears at breakfast time dressed in his shooting greens and I wear my green lead with pride knowing I am doing the job I was born for.  The freezer is getting stocked for the year and every Sunday I have tasty game titbits to add to my biscuits as well as long snoozes dreaming of running blissfully across the fields. 

I wish you all a very happy healthy new year filled with some exciting new smells for sniffing although the Mrs tells that sniffing and cold moist noses do not have the same health connotations for you as they do for me.  I wondered why one of the miniatures kept trying to wipe mine with tissues…..