APRIL 2015

Take a gander at these - I know, I know, not what you would normally buy to keep a dog company!  Actually they were a Christmas present for the Mrs from the Boss and judging by her reaction (I witnessed it first hand) I think she was as shocked as I.  Although I find my new friends quite amusing they do not reciprocate this feeling and their honkingly irritating reaction is to run flappingly down the garden whenever I put in an appearance.  Due to this aversion and their reaction I now have a new nickname and task and am commonly known as the Goose Herder, much in demand as every night they manage to break out of their designated area and appear on the patio each morning tapping at the window for breakfast.  If they were friendlier I wouldn’t mind if we spent time together but there are definite areas that would need attention.  Re-training in the toilet area is required as they are even more random than myself in that respect, also I am not keen on the hissing and would prefer honking if they really cannot manage a good deep bark.  They do tend to stick together and just lately they have started having a rough and tumble which the Boss said was normal at this time of year and we should let nature take its course to hopefully make eggs – sometimes he does talk complete gibberish – for a start I always get into trouble for rough and tumble and it definitely does not produce eggs, just a good telling off and instructions to behave!  The Mrs is the only person who gets eggs and they always accompany bacon not ganders.  Meanwhile I shall try very hard not to get goosed!

March 2015

Just showing you my special bed, kept in the sitting room especially for me and upon which I keep myself company!

I am allowed to sit on it if I have been good and promise not to misbehave or do anything which may instigate the air freshener being utilised.  Recently I have had a suspicion that someone else has been using my special bed – no, not the Boss and definitely not the Mrs – although I blame her for this gross invasion of my property. The other night, after being told I could come in and sit on my bed, which I hasten to add is right next to the small elevated bed belonging to a certain small furry spitty thing called Tiddles, I was just going to do my usual circular walk to find the best position for curling up when I smelt a suspiciously cat like aroma hovering over of my special bed – that danged cat had been sleeping on MY bed!  Vastly annoyed and not to be out done I kept one eye open all evening to see if she would be joining us.  Sure enough, in she padded, looking all innocent, spotted me and made to jump onto her own bed.  Just as she did so I barked really loudly so she misjudged the position of her cushion and instantly fell base over apex onto the floor!  Did I laugh?  Yes, for a bit, but not only did Tiddles land on her feet (don’t they always get the better of you) but my bark had woken both the Boss & Mrs who had been dozing by the fire and I got into a bit of bother, however some time later, when things had quietened down, I snoozed contentedly and dreamt of flying fur

February 2015

Nicknames and tails - the things I get called you would not believe.  Bert the Bouncer I quite enjoy as I have perfected the art of jumping vertically without touching or landing a paw print on the Boss or Mrs.  This usually occurs first thing in the morning when I am extremely happy to see them (breakfast is on the way) and if I bounce high enough I can see through the kitchen window. I live in fear of a rendition of Dirty Bertie from No. 30 as I know that sometime within the next few hours I will be taken to the white room for a shampoo and shower.  Sometimes I am Pierre-Auguste Bertoir when my tail paints willowy branches on creamy backgrounds (the Mrs mackintosh) and swimmingly wet trails of waves on walls in wet weather.  For the record I can also break an elegant wine glass full of red liquid cleanly in two, crash tea cups full of the healing drink to the floor in a minute and wipe tears from the faces of miniatures in seconds and all with a swipe of my magnificent tail.   I am very proud of my tail, its elegant lines tapering to a fine point.  In the mornings while I am waiting to bounce, I suck it, a bit like the latest miniature who sucks her fingers, lip and anything within easy reach.  When the Mrs comes down in the morning and feels my wet tail she calls me Baby Bertie, I ask you.  Talking of fine points, I have heard tell of the miniatures father once practicing his barbering skills on one of my predecessors whose fine tapering tail ended in a blunt bob and finished his detailed tail painting for quite some time, a sad 'tail' if ever I heard one.

December 2014/January 2015

Do I need this brolly or not, is the sun going to shine or is the rain going to wash my fur coat?  Last week I almost needed an extra fur coat, then the one I had was too hot!  I know I am only a dog but a bit of consistency would not go amiss.  The boss says the same and bitterly complains about the rain, I know just how he feels – too many baths can drive a man mad.  At least with the big wash outside there are no bubbles and I don’t end up smelling like a woofter, but paws for thought, my feet are clean, my coat is washed, rinsed and soft and I can dry naturally, even though the Mrs turns her nose up at my natural wet dog perfume.  This time of year brings an added extra – sometimes I am allowed to lie in front of a nice warm fire but only when the Mrs is not around to get a whiff of my aroma and only, of course, when the boss has struck this strange stick and made flames appear indoors.  As you read this I expect you will be thinking about another strange act – that of bringing a real tree in doors which ends up looking strangely useful to me but is always out of bounds and adorned with all sorts of paraphernalia, some edible and some not. I know because I have tried a few. … which, last year, caused a rather large contretemps but I eventually found a nicely wrapped chew beneath the tree.  However trouble struck as apparently I had found it too soon - before the day when a strange white bearded guy in red manages to squeeze down the chimney without burning himself.   All in all I think I am safer outside under the umbrella!

NOVEMBER 2014

We have been holidaying in the large box on wheels and stopped at a place called Looe.  Despite the name - I didn’t - as I have been taught that nothing should leave my body when I have my lead on – a situation which can sometimes be agonising but as the Mrs points out: guide dogs do not stop at every tree and lamp post or their owners would forever be banging into things so there is no excuse for me to be doing it. Consequently I have become resigned to crossing my legs and holding on until we arrive at a suitable place where I can do whatever I like.  We had a lovely holiday and I was quite well behaved throughout, however, I made a grave error of judgement recently when I was seriously disappointed at not being taken along to a ploughing match with the Boss.  Although I had been told to ‘stay’, boredom set in and I needed the ‘Looe’ and my mistake was in thinking I could find the ploughing match on my own and decided to head off and surprise the Boss.

Big mistake – couldn’t find him anywhere and boy did I get into trouble when I got back.  Apparently everyone had been looking for me including the local gamekeepers, neighbours, the Boss and the Mrs both scanning the village in their cars.  The Boss was just on the point of calling in reinforcements when he spotted me walking back down the road.   Having realised I preferred company on my walks I was returning home to find some and was quite calm - but the Boss was not, and when the Mrs stopped yelling at us both she made me promise never to go walking again without my lead on!  I have one word to say on that – ‘Looe’.

OCTOBER 2014

You will notice the black surround – it is because the boss said it is the end of an era and I totally sympathise – no more digestive biscuits and kindly tickles round my era’s from the Matriarch. I was looking forward to flushing a few birds off her bird table but I don’t think that is going to happen as I have been told she left this world for heaven in August and so things have been a bit quiet. There will be no more walks down to her flat to eat all the bird food she put out for her feathery friends.  Now she is probably flying around up there among them – I will keep a look out.

Grouse has been mentioned, but I am not sure if it was the Mrs complaining about the Boss and the approaching shooting season or the Boss complaining about the Mrs complaining about him.  If it gets too complicated I just bark and that stops them both in their tracks as they are not used to me using my voice.  They tell me this is one of the things they love about me – the fact that I very rarely speak, but when I do, it is for a good reason and even then it is usually just the one or two deep barks.  I am not fond of the yappers and neither are the Boss and Mrs.  Our house is usually quiet apart from when the miniatures arrive and then you can’t hear yourself bark – not that I do of course, although I did try it once and the miniature made even more noise so I beat a hasty retreat with a flea in my ear – oh no – we are back to era’s again…

SUMMER 2014

What a surprise!  My girlfriend Jazz, who only lives round the corner now, kept telling me something was in going to happen…. at her house there was anticipation in the air.  There had been preparations for an extra room, a new sleeping basket, less walks and her Mrs getting bigger and bigger, Jazz wondered what was in store? Overeating? Puppies?  Then lo and behold, look what arrived at 3am one morning.  The last night in June Jazz was kept awake with lots of pacing back and forth and later at our house on the same night I heard the tinkling of the small black pocket box which means my Boss and Mrs talk to invisible people and ignore me.  I always thought dogs, not humans, had sixth senses but it seems the other way round in this house.  Anyway, after this invisible conversation the Mrs jumped up and down and disappeared.  Jazz said she turned up at her place to stay while Jazz’s Boss and Mrs went off to a very large building, only to return later that morning with another miniature.  Well, swipe me sideways with a bouquet of pheasants, I am not quite sure how that happened, but whether bought or homemade everyone seems very happy, including Jazz.  Her Mrs was much reduced in size and her Boss was proudly carrying the new miniature, who very much resembled the previous miniatures with one crucial difference, the accompanying teddy had a pink bow whereas before the other two teddies had blue.   Jazz had lots of hugs and pats in celebration of another prospective playmate and is very happy to start her walks again, but whenever I see her now she keeps looking at me with that wistful look in eyes and I am not sure why…