The look of bafflement on Gail's face when she tries to decipher instructor Gordon, who combines Doric dialect with indistinct diction further muffled by a great big shaggy beard. Whereas he just needs to wave his arm and I can tell right away what he wants.
The fact that if I bark when one of my class mates is 'performing' Gail will always pick me up, looking all panicky and anxious, and give me a cuddle.
Obviously, the fact that it is a whole hour of undivided attention and a constant stream of treats.
So far, Gail is too intimidated by Gordon to take along her camera, so there's been none of that tedious "pose nicely now Bertie" stuff going on.
It's the humans not the dogs that get told off! (I don't think Gordon was too impressed when Gail tried to explain that we hadn't been practicing 'stays' outside because it has been raining here continuously for over a fortnight. Real tough NE Scots are not supposed to notice the bad weather apparently).
The tunnel. Sometimes you can find treats in there that other dogs have left behind, if you search for long enough...
Watching labrador Tilly amble round the course in a 'totally can't be arsed' fashion.
The Not So Fun Bits
I don't like the way Gail is always saying admiring things about class swot goodie two shoes border collie Maisie ...
At puppy class we always started with socialisation and I got to jump all over Daisy Dachshund. It was the best bit by far. No such opportunities this time.
Creative interpretations of the route one is supposed to take over the obstacles are frowned on. Were I to take up ice-skating, dancing not figures would be my métier. (Why is that a ludicrous thought, Gail?)
All the other dogs arrive in great big 4WD's and look down with disdain on our little Mini.
And it's so humiliating when Gordon lowers the jumps a notch or two when my turn comes round. And unnecessary. I mean, we all know I have springs in my legs!
Hi, I'm Bertie, a wire-haired fox terrier pup. I live with Gail in Aberdeen, Scotland. An old Westie called Hamish used to live here but he died on 18th February 2010 (exactly the same day I was born). People tell me that he used to have a blog and that I have big pawprints to fill. That's a bit too much responsibility for a very young puppy - and anyway, I intend to make my own mark!
(Gail says that Hamish could certainly have taught me a thing or two about marking stuff....)