In the Bleak Mid Winter

The winter solstice is one of the best times of the year for walking the hounds.  The winter sun is low on the horizon and if it snows then all you can see on your walk are big rabbit footprints and the tracks of chilly bird feet.  The dogs love it - they can run for ages without over-heating, cooling down by flinging themselves into snow drifts so that all you can see are their heads and tails.  Last year, when we had really good snow in Scotland, we were treated to the sight of a massive hare on a snowy hillock checking us out.  He was as big as a dog and stayed with us for quite a while.  The dogs were kind enough to ignore him and he went on his way, one very lucky chap indeed.  Deer are another matter however, and I have to keep a keen look out for them so that I can get the dogs on the lead before its too late.  After years spent living in London it feels like a real privilege to walk out into the countryside every day and I never tire of it.  Neither do the dogs!  Whilst every one else is wishing it was spring we are running in the fields sucking in the cold air and hoping for more snow.

DoodleOng

The Kizzy dog has been in season for a couple of weeks now and Brodie, one of the Labradoodles, has been flinging some considerable woo at her.  His enthusiastic courtship has provoked a series of changing moods from the object of his affections.  These have ranged from barking, chasing and tail whipping.  Today however, things took a turn in his favour and it suddenly dawned on both me and the Labradoodle man that we might need to break the two star crossed lovers up.  This started a discussion between us about how, in these days of designer crosses, a labradoodle/longdog  might do.  In the end we decided that nobody in their right mind would buy a dog that could run at forty miles an hour all day long, was highly motivated to stuff its face with food at every oportunity and who really wasn't that bothered about coming back.  So sorry Kizzy and Brodie the romance is off, your DoodleOng puppies will just have to wait.

Chocolate Drop

Dogs aren't supposed to eat chocolate.  It's got some chemical in it that is poisonous to them so no matter how much they look like they want it, don't be tempted.  Having said that, during Kizzy's first Christmas with us I was hiding a lot of presents up in my study.  Some of them were from my family and already wrapped so I didn't know what was in them.  After coming back from the shops one day I wasn't greeted at the front door by the usually exuberant Kizzy, instead all was deadly quiet.  Suspicious, I called her name and she slunk out from her bed in the kitchen looking very guilty indeed.  I had a scout round downstairs and couldn't find anything amiss, but still Kizzy was slinking around with her head down, so I went upstairs only to find what could only be called carnage - a mess of wrapping paper and half chewed cardboard and, no kidding, two empty boxes of Thornton chocolates!  All the next day I was waiting for the upset stomach that should have followed after a such a binge, but got nothing.  That little gypsy's dog has got guts of steel.  The trouble is, having tasted the forbidden fruit, she is obsessed by its existence and desperate to eat more.  You can't unwrap a bar of Cadbury's without her appearing from nowhere looking half starved and forlorn.  The breaking open of the Christmas Truffles last night prompted her instant arrival, the laying of her head on my knee and the sad look of the last dog to be picked up by the Dogs Trust.  Every truffle I ate prompted a long minute of staring and then a slow drip of saliva onto my leg.  After watching me eat, Kizzy started keening in the back of her throat and tapping me with her nose.  But I have nerves of steel and eventually she gave up and went back to her bed.  Whilst all this was going on I hadn't noticed that my sugar addicted husband had been eating two truffles for every one of mine and when I went in for my final truffle I found the packet......empty.

Aerodognamics

There is no better dog 'fit for purpose' than the Longdog.  As running dogs go they are pretty much perfect.  They are so aerodynamic that even their ears form back into a point on the backs of their heads when they are running.  Their back legs are like springs driven by pistons and they have powerful shoulder muscles that can carry them up a hill in a few seconds.  Bet what you didn't know is that a male running dogs testicles are placed in a line instead of hanging adjacent so that they don't 'clatter' when the dog is going at speed.  Now wouldn't that be handy Usain Bolt?

Giant Tea-Leaf #2

Oh the joys of a dog that can reach your worktops without needing a chair to stand on...That big hairy wotnot managed to get the lid of a cast iron casserole dish and eat the remains of a sirloin joint with all the stealth and planning of a ninja death assassin.  Serves him right that he puked it up later.  Serves me right that he did it all over his new bed.  A guess we both learnt a thing or two ; 0)

Lost Dog Karma

Whilst on a gusty walk this morning I met the usual doggy suspects:  Flynn, Bracka, Seema and Brodie the labradoodles and the man they allow to walk with them and Belle, the flat coated retriever and her nice lady companion.  With Belle was a very tired and ill looking beagle.  Belle's owner had found her curled up in one of the fields, had put her on the lead and was taking her home.  We all had a good look at her (dogs and humans) and concluded that she had recently had puppies and wasn't in the best of health.  My heart went out to the little thing, her belly was sagging and her perinium was almost down to her knees.  She didn't have a collar on.  We all hoped that the local vet would find a chip and that she could be returned safely to a loving family.  As we parted company my mind raced on and I started wondering if she had been dumped in the fields on purpose.  Who would do such a thing? I thought of my own great lumoxes curled up in a field trying to keep warm on a cold morning, lost and hungry, their skinny flanks shivering and their teeth chattering.  The one time Gordon MacDonald got lost on a walk, a neighbour of mine had kindly taken him in after she found him pacing anxiously up and down my back gate (at this point I was running around the local streets frantic with worry).  Several people had seen him, but nobody had thought to catch him and keep him safe.  I nearly kissed her when she finally managed to flag me down and let me into her house where a terrified and very contrite Gordon MacDonald collapsed into my arms.   Since then I have taken several waifs and strays into my care and returned them safely to their owners.  I think of it as good Karma, and hope that, should such a thing ever happen to either of my dogs again, some kind person will keep them safe and return them to me.  Here's hoping that the little beagle finds a safe bed and a warm and loving family to live with.

Puppy Love

My friend has just got a new puppy - her first ever.  A very cute cocker spaniel called Riley.  Of course the three humans in our family were straight round for a cuddling session.  I tried to do sharing, I really did, but I was in there like a shot sniffing his little puppy feet and nibbling his ears.  Both my friends family and mine looked on in  horror as I gave in to my strange urges to let him chew my hair and eat the soles of my boots.  On the way home my son was having a right old moan about how I had 'hogged' the puppy and that he 'barely got a look in' and I have to admit that I was absolutely horribly selfish about getting right in there.  I must admit I felt a bit shame-faced about it all but secretly wasn't sorry.  So what if I have a puppy addiction?  Later that night we were going to bed I started a conversation with my husband that went 'Can....' and he immediately said 'No' before I had even finished.  We both knew what was coming and I guess it was best to just nip that thought in the bud.  So here's a picture of the gorgeous Gordon MacDonald when he was just 13 weeks old.  Imagine him chewing your hair and nibbling your ears!

The Dog-Mind

I often wonder what goes on in my dogs heads as they lay snoring on the sofa.  Not a lot, you might say, but I beg to differ.  Do dogs have a long term memory? Of course they do!  A friend came to visit today who Kizzy hasn't seen for two years and that little black dog went mad running round in circles and grinning like an idiot. She then proceeded to make strange little puppy noises at my friend, who was well impressed at the welcome she got.  It was obvious to both of us that Kizzy not only remembered my friend but was also glad to see her.  If dogs have a long term memory what do you think they dream about? 

Complicated Kizzy

Our little black dog is a conundrum.   Kizzy was a feisty wee puppy who was a whole lot of work. Now she is a fabulous dog - full of charm and character.   Unlike Gordon MacDonald, who is very straightforward and a bit dim and easy to love, Kizzy is complicated.  She looks into your face a lot, trying to read your expression and follows me around the house if I am busy, checking out what I am doing.  She likes to bring me things occasionally, normally a shoe or a sock and has recently taken to speaking to me in a serious of grunts and whinnies, the meaning of which I am not quite sure of.  I often think that the arrogance of humans means that they never really appreciate what kind of intelligence animals in general have.  How much dog do you speak?  I am struggling with 'woof' because its a bit like Japanese where one word can mean many things dependent on context and inflection.  But the Kizzy dog can understand a lot of what I am saying and seems to understand other things with acute precision  - for example, I didn't realise that I raise my eyebrows when I am telling her to go to her bed and now I only have to do that single thing, without even speaking, and she will go straight to her bed.  Nor that before I tell her off I draw my breath in sharply, so if I do this she runs off because she thinks I am about to tell her off for something.  This means that if I am hammering in a nail and hit my thumb and draw my breath in quickly my dog runs off!  How can she know so much about me and I so little about her?  Why for example, does she like to be wrapped in a cover when she is sleeping?  Why, if she is asleep in her bed and Gordon MacDonald wanders in, does she immediately come and sit right beside me?  And how does she know, when I am three streets away, that I am on my way home?

Giant Tea Leaf

Never, ever leave your shepherds pie on the hob and then go upstairs to put your son to bed because when you come back downstairs your shepherds pie will be gone, and lying in his bed will be a big hairy dog with a distended tummy and a bit of mashed potato on the end of his nose.

My Kingdom for a Bed...

Its not often I find myself in a bed shop.  I think I must have had the same bed for ten years.  The sales staff in bed shops are scary.  They home in on you and start asking you questions that seem very personal - how do you like to sleep, hard or soft mattress?  Storage or not?  Divan or frame?.  The trouble is, the bed isn't for me and my husband or my son.  No indeed, the bed is not for any human member of our tribe.  The new bed is for Gordon MacDonald who, now that he has reached his full height and weight (34inches at the shoulder and 42 kilos), is finding it increasingly difficult to get comfy, even on the sofa.  He has taken to standing outside our bedroom door and whinning for hours because he wants to get in and spread out on our kingsized number, which has a really comfy mattress topper and an extra thick duvet.  He doesn't bother with my son's bed because its a raised cabin bed and anyway it belongs to the cat when my son isn't sleeping on it.  I have been getting tired of finding him asleep on our bed after having scraped the duvet into a suitably large pile and topped it with a pillow or two.  When I try to get him off he pretends to be asleep and recently has taking to lifting his head after ten minutes of prolonged shouting only to yawn and fall back to sleep again.  Hence me and Bob found ourselves in the bed shop, trying to buy a bed that would fit in my study and be big enough for Gordon MacDonald (over six foot in either direction) so when the boy salesman with the three gelled down whips of hair and the super strong Lynx effect asked me if I wanted a hard or soft mattress I just looked at him and said 'Its for a dog, a big skinny dog who likes his home comforts' and the way that he looked at me spoke volumes about how other people see my dog induced madness.  Still, he sold me a bed any dog would be proud of and now I hardly get to see Gordon MacDonald unless I am working because he has taken to that bed like its his long lost friend.  In fact, he is asleep on it right now, his tongue lolling out on a pillow.  And I am going to have to  open a window because my study reeks of contented dog blarts.  I hadn't thought about that side of sharing my work space....

I find myself saying 'Sorry' quite a lot...

If you haven’t owned a dog for a while I think that you will find there has been a massive change in attitude during the last twenty years or so.  When I was a kid (that was LAST CENTURY) everybody had a dog.  If you didn’t have a dog people thought you were weird and felt sorry for you.  If you had more than one dog you were well cool.  We took photo’s of our dogs into school and stuck them on our desks.  We talked about all their little ways and when we were very small we attempted to dress them up in dolls clothes and push them around the streets in our dolls prams.  But now you and your dog cannot be sure of a good welcome anywhere.  Up at the school gates children unused to pets screech loudly and flap their arms about (this is like saying to a dog 'Hi - lets get really excited together.  I’ll flap my hands about and make lots of loud high pitched noises and you can jump about and lick me') causing what I have come to think of as a ‘playground altercation’.  Not all kids or parents are like this, but a significant proportion of them are.  These same mums and dads that fear germs, use anti-bacterial wipes on their steering wheels and only buy organic food as a rule seem not to like my dogs.  Since I have had my dogs I have never said 'Sorry' so much in my life.  I can start apologising for something that hasn't even happened just by catching a glimpse on the look of someone's face when they pass me and my dogs in the street. Part of my learning curve at the moment is to try and not say sorry.  Its hard. Sorry, but it is.  Sorry.  See?

I'm no expert......

I met a friend of mine the other day who has got a six month old whippet puppy called Bow.  The puppy was doing what all puppies do and jumping up at me excitedly.  It was quickly distracted by a passing labrador and then tried to eat a bit of dried chewing gum from the pavement.  'Your dogs always look so calm and collected when you are out' she said and I laughed.  A big laugh.  'Don't you believe it' I said.  Its taken me three years of walks to get to that point.  'Really?'  'Oh yes, I replied' and I went on to tell her the amount of times I had come back from walking my dogs in exasperated tears, humiliated and at the end of my tether.  We started laughing.  'But you look like such an expert'.  And looking back, when I was walking my pair of wilful, big and easily distracted puppies I used to look at other dog walkers and think - 'Why can't my two be like that?'.  I thought I'd never get there with either of them and I'd be foolish if I thought I was there now - only yesterday Kizzy decided it might be fun to cross two fields in about ten seconds, taking the easily led Mac with her.  I was tooting on my whistle for ages and then, in a panic, I ran across the back field in my wellies and rain coat, hailstones bouncing off my head until I arrived in the hay field with about ten kilos of mud stuck to my boots to find two very sweaty but happy looking dogs running round in circles chasing after nothing at all.  I was spitting feathers.

Getting Started....

Am trying to squeeze in a quick techno lesson before my son comes home from school and so far I have slid off the internet twice and then had to break off to feed the cat soI am putting in a very quick post just to get started.  I thought  I would have had time to give this more thought but as usual my day has joined the ranks of all the other pear-shaped days that litter my life. 

Here's a little bit of what's coming:  I am currently writing a book about my longdogs.  Longdogs are a cross between two sight hounds and have a very ancient and noble background, but of late have got a bad press due to their associations with poaching.  They are different from lurchers, who have a working dog mixed in with them, maybe a terrier or a collie.  They are called Longdogs because they are, well...long.  My big dog is a special kind of longdog called a Staghound - a deerhound/greyhound cross and my little dog is a greyhound/saluki cross - we call her a Greyluki - in keeping in line with the current fashion for designer cross-breeds!  I hope to introduce you to my dogs over the next few weeks and share with you some of the on-going work from the book with is called THE GYSPY AND THE GIANT:  MY LIFE WITH LONGDOGS. 

I am looking for all kinds of stories about dogs, but partiuclarly big dogs and longdogs in particular.  Please feel free to let me know your best and worst big dog moments.  I will be sharing mine with you on this blog....