Bouncing Bertie's Blog

Whale watching is rubbish (+ keep voting!)

2012-02-02T06:00:00.061Z

First, I want to thank you all so much for your amazing response to my readers' poll (see previous post). The vote closes on Sunday, so if you haven't yet selected Addy's Valentine vehicle, don't forget to do so in the next couple of days. I really appreciate your help with this tough decision!

Well what else have I been up to?

There was great excitement in this household at the weekend when one of Gail's friends called to say that humpback whales had been sighted off the village of Collieston several times in the last few days. A most unusual occurrence, and apparently of great interest to humans....

Well, we drove the 15 miles north up the coast from Aberdeen to Collieston and this is what we saw:

And this is what we hoped to see but didn't.

So I have decided that whale watching is a greatly overrated pastime anyway.

From the canine perspective it's all "no Bertie no, don't jump all over the little children you'll frighten them, no Bertie you can't run off down the cliff path and explore the village all on your own, Bertie you must stay here where I can see you're not getting into any trouble, no I don't want to go down to the beach just so you can roll in some decomposing fish, OH BERTIE NO, sigh, I'm going to have to put you back on the lead, Bertie please stop barking no-one wants to listen to a noisy dog, no Bertie we are not going anywhere just yet, those whales might show up any minute now..."

Tedious or what?

Oh, I have been instructed to tell you that we did also have a very pleasant walk in the nearby Sands of Forvie nature reserve the same afternoon, and also told that I would do well to display more gratitude once in a while...

Addy's ride - YOU choose

2012-01-30T08:16:00.005Z

It is so difficult, this dating lark.

I've told you about Addy haven't I...? The very wonderful lady bulldog from Illinois who will be accompanying me to the Blogville Valentine Dance next month. Oh I so want to impress her, and what better way than to arrange for some truly special transport to the party? Problem is, between you and me, I do not know Addy that well, and I'm a bit unsure what she would like best.

Well I have been out and about in Aberdeen, and I have come up with a range of options. Please, readers, please, do help me here, and vote using the readers' poll (right hand column, below the header photo) to tell me which you think I should choose. Bear in mind that Addy is not a 'girlie girl' dog and we do know that she will not be wanting something all pink and sparkly....

Option 1: The Smart Car (the obvious choice for a Smart dog, no?)

Option 2: The Bicycle (although I am not sure if Addy would favour the green alternative. Somehow I suspect not...)

Option 3: The Oil Man's Audi (I must say I have checked this out carefully and it is most comfortable. Vorsprung durch Technik and all that.)

Option 4: The Hearse (for some reason Gail tried to deter me from including this, but I thought it looked distinguished, whilst also roomy and practical. And remember that Addy is a BIG girl.)

Option 5: The Tank (we would make a memorable entrance - and it would also come in handy should I need to fight off any competition)

Option 6: The Ambulance (wouldn't it be fun to set the siren off and zoom past all the traffic on the way to the party? We'd be first to all the treats!)

Option 7: The Cargo Vessel (plenty of space here too, and guaranteed stability should the going get rough....)

Option 8: The Magic Carpet (assuming we can conjure up enough lift to hold both my weight AND Addy's...)

Please do help me out by voting. The poll closes on Sunday 5th February.

And don't whisper a word to Addy. I want it to be a surprise.

It's all very taxing...

2012-01-27T06:12:00.074Z

So hard to get comfy, when a certain person is (finally) filling in her tax return, and one's favourite chair is being used as a temporary filing cabinet...

Another taxing matter this week has involved listening to this same certain person wandering round the house spouting some poem about a mouse. Apparently she rashly committed to learn this off by heart, to recite at a Burns Supper at our neighbours' house on Saturday evening. (I expect I'll be able to hear them laughing at her pronunciation all the way from across the street...)

But how would you like it if you kept being addressed, most inappropriately I might say, as 'Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie' ?

I asked Gail why she didn't instead select another excellent Rabbie Burns poem 'The Twa Dogs, A Tale', which clearly has far better subject matter. She replied that remembering the forty-eight lines of 'To a Mouse' were proving hard enough, and 'Twa Dogs' is five times the length. Well for shame Gail, that's just no' trying is it? And I'm told that Kirsty, another neighbour who'll be at the Supper, can do the whole of 'Tam O'Shanter' (225 lines).

Oh and going back to the subject of taxes, did you know that Scotland's bard worked as an exciseman for the last eight years of his short life? He even wrote a poem in defence of his profession, sort of. (Kirk and State Excisemen)

Just one more thing.

The observant amongst my readers might have noticed the funny coloured stains around my eyes in the photos above. I've had a wee eye infection this week, hence a rare trip to the vet and a prescription for some drops. You would hope Gail might be all sympathetic, but no, she just looks up from the computer, frowns, and says "I do wish I could claim you as an allowable expense Bertie".

Addy: my date for the Valentine Party!

2012-01-25T18:40:00.003Z

Yes, it really is true.

It took some nerve (sometimes us Adventure Animals are not so bold in affairs of the heart), but finally I plucked up the courage to ask a certain feisty lady bulldog to the Blogville Valentine's Day Party.

And guess what?

She accepted!

Oh I am quite overwhelmed. I have been secretly admiring Jazzi's sister Addy (a.k.a. Addison) ever since she first arrived on the blog scene last year.

She is just such a splendid, strapping lass isn't she? And what a bonnie smile! Plus, it seems we have much in common, despite living on different continents. Like, me, she is a sporty-dog with little time for dressing up and so forth. She is quite capable of creating all sorts of mayhem in the home too. As far as I'm aware, Addy does not yet share my scientific interests, so I am going to resist the temptation to suggest my 'Higgs Boson Diet Plan' to her, despite the evident disparity in our sizes..

(Gail is telling me this last sentence might be construed as a tad ungallant? Bear with me, friends, I am new to this dating game.)

On to safer territory then..

I am currently on the look out for a suitable vehicle, to transport Addy to the Valentine's Dance in the style she surely deserves. I shall be reporting back on my findings and asking readers for advice on this matter sometime next week. Watch this space...

Meanwhile, reminded that it's Burns Night, I'm sending "ae fond kiss" all the way across the Pond to the incomparably gorgeous Addy in Illinois.

Bad movies/good movies

2012-01-23T06:25:00.055Z

You'd think it would be safe to allow your human a night out once in a while, to go to the movies, for example. I'm cool with that idea. I'm a big pup now and don't mind being 'home alone' for a couple of hours. I understand that sometimes Gail thinks she needs mental stimulation other than that which I provide.

Well, I'm telling you. Do NOT let your humans anywhere near this new silent film 'The Artist'. They could come back with all sorts of worrying notions.

"Hey Bertie", Gail called out when she arrived home at 11pm last night, "can you do that crouching down, head tucked back between the front legs pose? Like the Jack Russell in the film I just saw? It's a sort of 'I can't bear to watch this' gesture. SO cute."

No Gail I can't do that.

But I can growl.

Grrrrrhhh.

And no, I am not going to be mollified by being told the dog was totally the star of the show. Why ever might you imagine it could be otherwise?

I'm thinking my readers might now want to watch a wee movie filmed on my walk yesterday afternoon, in which I am the main attraction.

Well OK, me and the sounds of the wind and the tinkling of ice fragments on the loch.

The Torridon Olympics: false claims exposed

2012-01-20T05:55:00.049Z

By Loch an Eion, after an unplanned dip in the burn

I can't tell you how often I've heard Gail going on about how she was some sort of a sprinter, back in the day.

Well last weekend I decided it was time to put these claims to the test. After all, the London Olympics will soon be upon us, and I fear that white-skinned fiftysomething females are currently under-represented in the Team GB 100 meters squad.

Let me describe the two trials, conducted in the vicinity of Loch Torridon:

1. On the stalkers path from Annat to Loch an Eion. I wanted to check if Gail could run as fast as me when I was attempting to chase a red deer stag up a steep incline through the heather. Result:

Gold Medal: the Stag
Silver Medal: Bertie
Bronze Medal: Gail

2. On the gently sloping road up from the side gate of the Wester Alligin cottage to a small enclosure 200m away, where some sheep were grazing peacefully. If I slipped out though the gate (when carelessly left ajar), could Gail reach me before I reached the sheep? Result:

Gold Medal: Donnie the crofter who erected the sheep enclosure's terrier-proof fence
Silver Medal: Bertie
Bronze Medal: Gail

Oh dear Gail. Those legs of yours aren't quite as fast as you like to think, are are they?

Never mind. We're still pals, eh?

At rest in front of our cottage, besides Hamish's memorial stone

SingalongaBertie

2012-01-17T06:17:00.006Z

♫ ♩♫ ♩

Happiness, happiness,

♩♫ ♩♫♩♩

The greatest gift that I possess,

♩♫ ♩♫ ♩♩

I thank the Lord that I've been blessed,

♬ ♬♩ ♫ ♩♩

With more than my share of happiness.

And if you don't know the Ken Dodd song, click here.

Update: apologies to readers outside the UK if the YouTube link is blocked. And of course UK readers will know the song anyway...

So what's the problem?

2012-01-15T06:12:00.001Z

It still works.

Note from Gail: this memory stick survived being dropped in a cup of steaming hot cappuccino last year, and then a few days ago it survived an encounter with Bertie's ever active gnashers....

We can heartily recommend Hewlett-Packard memory sticks. Coffee proof and terrier proof.

(And no we have not been paid for this product endorsement. Although it would be nice.)

The Higgs Boson Diet Plan

2012-01-11T06:05:00.007Z

I know you will all have been thinking "I wonder when Bertie is going to get back to blogging about challenging scientific subjects. He really has been slacking lately".

Fear not, dear readers. I promised before Christmas that I would turn my attention to the Higgs boson, and I am not one to renege on my promises.

Now I suspect that many of my friends, both canine and human, will have made some sort of a New Year resolution which involves trying to lose weight, am I right?

(Please bear with me, I am not going off track).

The thing is, with the thrilling recent announcement from CERN that, following painstaking analysis of high energy proton collisions in the Large Hadron Collider, this elusive missing elementary particle has possibly been spotted, I am increasingly confident that I shall soon be in a position to patent my new invention, the Higgs Boson Diet.

I hope you won't think I'm insulting your intelligence by reminding you that the Higgs boson is the particle that imparts mass to all other particles.

So, the way I see it, if you can rid your body of a few stray Higgs bosons, then you have a pain free way of losing weight which involves absolutely no cutting back on treats, cookies, bones, or whatever.

Up until now, the stumbling block has always been that it is hard to get rid of something that no-one has ever been able to detect.

I expect you are now beginning to understand why the imminent discovery of this boson, the existence of which was predicted by Prof. Peter Higgs of Edinburgh University, Scotland in 1964, is causing such a wave of excitement in the physics community.

My own ingenious idea is that if you just hang around inside the Large Hadron Collider whilst all those protons are whizzing by at 99.9999991% of the speed of light (remembering to wear a jacket 'cos it's -271.3ºC in there) then there's every chance that a passing proton will bash into and annihilate a few of your very own personal Higgs bosons and, as if by magic, the pounds or kilograms will dissolve away in the time it takes to say "particle accelerator".

Beautiful, isn't it?

Oh what now? Gail is saying that she's thinks I might need to check my calculations as she's worried you might be losing mass but not volume.....

Really, geniuses don't want to be bothered by such petty details.

And those equations do look awfully difficult.

Mango Minster Entry 2012: Bertie the Great Adventurer

2012-01-08T07:08:00.003Z

This year I am entering the 'Adventure Animals' category in the awesome cyber dog show extravaganza that is Mango Minster 2012. (I am so totally over the whole Cracker Dog phase. Really.)

Now it feels ever so slightly demeaning to have to explain why I should be considered the top Adventure Animal. But Gail has persuaded me to set out the reasons, despite the fact that, to even the most casual reader of this blog, they will already be clear beyond dispute.

Let's see now.....

I have Sir Edmund Hillary's head for heights:

It cuts no ice with me that I am not a husky. My skills in polar conditions rival those of Amundsen, Shackleton and Peary:

When it comes to deserts, I could kick sand in the eyes of Lawrence of Arabia:

I would presume to teach Livingstone and Stanley a thing or two about exploring rivers:

The Sheriff of Nottingham would be all a quiver, had he to contend with me as well as Robin Hood:

I feel a sublime affinity with John Muir after passing by train through his birthplace, Dunbar, last July. (No Gail that is not tenuous, there's no need to be all superior, just because you once spent two weeks in Yosemite):

My deep and abiding interest in science and geology would have made me a natural selection to accompany Darwin on his Beagle adventure:

In the matter of giant leaps, I am second only to Neil Armstrong:

Living in a port city, I could go the whole nine yards with Captain Cook, Christopher Columbus, Magellan, John Cabot, Sir Walter Raleigh...

So.

I think you will agree that I can stand tall alongside the world's great adventurers.

Not to mention the inevitable motley crew of also-ran canine co-contestants....

A walk in Sherwood Forest and a Robin Hood fantasy

2012-01-05T06:03:00.010Z

As you know, I spent the Christmas and New Year holiday in Nottingham.

Now I’ve already told you about my role in trying to lift Human Grandad's spirits. Well between you and me, by the end of the trip Gail needed a bit of cheering up too, and not only on account of losing heavily to Daniel on the Wii.

So anyway, I decided to take her for a reviving walk in Sherwood Forest before we returned to Aberdeen.

We went to see this huge and ancient tree, ‘The Major Oak’, where Robin Hood is supposed to have hidden from the Sheriff of Nottingham all those centuries ago.

Oh I just loved it there in the forest, sniffing gnarled old oak trees, romping around grassy glades, admiring the novel waymarking posts, and milking the attentions of other visitors.

This famous 'greenwood' was wearing its winter suit of brown, but Gail looked all rosy cheeked and happy again after our splendid outing.

Now that I’m back in Scotland I’ve been reading up all about Robin Hood and his Merry Men and my imagination has been running riot.

Oh how wonderful it would be if Gail and I could decamp together back to Sherwood and lead a new band of outlaws. I could be 'Little Bertie' to Gail's 'Robina Hood', and I'd roam all day in the forest while Gail honed her archery skills (last practiced on a bow and arrow won by her brother at Goose Fair circa 1967...) We would sleep on a soft bed of moss under the broadleaf canopy, launch daring raids on wealthy bankers travelling up the Great North Road with their bags of gold, and use the money to help the poor and vulnerable. I am sure that a latter day Friar Tuck (Giles Fraser?) would bring us some ale to keep us merry, and I would even be prepared to wear a coat of Lincoln green should circumstances require it...

Well blow me down with a feather.

Gail is staring out of the front window, onto our grey and chilly Aberdeen street, and she's muttering: "You know what Bertie, for once that isn't such a stupid idea of yours".

Bertie versus the Wii...

2012-01-02T13:12:00.004Z

You’ll never guess what I’m being blamed for now. Just because a certain person is a very bad loser.

Let me explain.

Down in England last week, we paid a post-Christmas visit to one of Gail’s godsons. Look, here he is, Daniel, the handsome chappie in the Argentina football shirt.

No soon as we’d entered the front door, than Daniel challenged Gail to a game of football on his new Wii computer thingy.

I don’t suppose it will come as a big surprise to you that my dear lady owner has hitherto not devoted too much time and effort to developing her expertise in this area. Unlike her twelve year old godson….

Now I will admit that this was my first opportunity to see a Wii in action too, but, in contrast to Gail, I naturally cottoned on pretty fast. As I see it, the game involves the humans waving their arms a lot, often very rapidly, to test whether the nearby terrier can either (1) grasp the moving human hand in his mouth or (2) take advantage of the fact that the humans are otherwise occupied and the field is wide open for toe chewing or ankle nibbling.

So by my criteria, I totally wiped the floor with the opposition.

Daniel's version is that he won ten-nil.

And incredibly, Gail had the cheek to suggest her poor performance was due to being distracted by my embarking on a limb-grabbing rampage mid-way through the game…

Yeah, right Gail. Like you weren’t already eight-nil down when I first sprung into action.

My very important Christmas role

2011-12-27T14:53:00.009Z

So here I am cheering up Human Grandad (HGD).

He had been feeling a bit down. You see, while Human Granny (HGY) is now so clever on the computer that she no longer even needs me to supervise...

...HGD finds anything modern terribly confusing, and that upsets him and makes him anxious.

So anyway, I asked him about some of the interesting things he had done in the past, and suddenly he relaxed. I found out that of course HGD still knows lots of good stuff. Gail only had to prompt him a few times when he couldn't remember the words. He told me about how to fly a Mosquito across the North Sea to Norway, to fire rockets on German shipping (a valuable skill in 1944!) He also told me how to discover new and useful substances. (When HGD was a research scientist in the 1950s he apparently patented a chemical for dipping sheep in to prevent disease.)

Well now, all this morale boosting is important but tiring work.

OK, that's enough break time. HGD needs me again. I have to go.

Well I have lots more I could be telling you, like about yesterday's visit from my poodle cousin Izzy (she of the lovely pom-pom tail, for those of you with long memories) and her new brother, Percy 'Fat Boy' poodle.

Gail says I was "surprisingly well-behaved" during their visit. A back-handed compliment if ever I heard one.

Oh, if only there were more time. I have been so missing my blogging pals.

My 2011: by Bard Bertie

2011-12-18T06:11:00.097Z

The year begins with shocking cold.

With long dark nights. The sun stays low.

The snow is deep, but in the home,

Soft laps, warm hearts and fires aglow.

*****

February’s time to celebrate,

And bake my birthday cake.

But Gail finds it hard to eat

My replica, such a mistake!

*****

In March a new experience,

A true test of my social skill.

A house party with fifteen guests,

For whom I finally sit still….

*****

So April is the cruellest month,
Old T.S. Eliot had it right.
How mean of Gail to leave me home,
And go with friends to France by bike!

*****

In May, in Britain, some were pleased

To cheer along our Wills and Kate.

Did you stay in and watch TV,

Or climb Munros to celebrate?

*****

The month of June, my chance to shine.

A village fete (Feis Alligin).

When I am jumping through the hoops

Those collies don’t get a look in!

*****

July and down to Nottingham

To visit Gail’s Mum and Dad.

We go by train, the passengers

Think I am such a bonny lad.

*****

Not everybody's quite so charmed.

In August Michael comes to stay.

I really did not mean to harm

Him but, bare legs? What can one say…?

*****

Month nine, it is my turn to show

My heartfelt patriotic zeal,

Go Scotland rugby team, go go!

Win the World Cup! Or not. Oh well.

*****

October comes. In Torridon,

I'm simply horrified to see,
The kayak, made by Florian
For Gail. BUT THERE'S NO SPACE FOR ME!

*****

Can you believe it? I cannot,

November saw this lovely chap,

Gail’s Dad, turn ninety, that’s a lot

Of years, (he often needs to nap).

*****

So here we are, year at an end,

It’s now the season of goodwill.

So bouncing love to all my friends

And may your lives be joyful still.

Merry Christmas to all my dear readers!

PS I'm off with Gail to Nottingham shortly and I will be concentrating all my efforts on trying to cheer up Human Grandad, as Gail tells me he has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. But never fear, I shall be back, and as ever with plenty to say, in the New Year!

Suffering from Tall Poppy Syndrome

2011-12-14T06:26:00.058Z

Now I am all excited about reported sightings of the Higgs boson. However, Gail has persuaded me that my readers will on the whole be more interested in the goings on at this week's Deeside Dog Agility Club Christmas Party.

Fine then. But first I want to ask a question.

Fellow canines, do you ever feel held back by the low expectations and aspirations of your human?

You know, when I started out on this agility training lark, Gail went on and on about how it was all for fun, she just wanted to spend time doing stuff and bonding with me, she knew I'd never be winning any contests, etc. etc.

Well I'll have you know that at the party on Monday I won this most magnificent prize for 'Best Newcomer'.

And no Gail I do not think it necessary to be pointing out that 'Only Newcomer' would be a more accurate label. I hate this British tendency towards Tall Poppy Syndrome.

Now we have already established in this blog that I do not do fancy dress. It seems I share this trait with most of my fellow Scottish agility dogs, as only three turned up in full costume.

And two of these are owned by an American.....

I could tell though that my fellow party goers - dogs and humans - were in fact quite serious about the so-called 'fun' agility games. And so while Gail was still all "Oh Bertie I don't think we'll enter will we, you're really not quite at that level yet", I was cannily sniffing out the competition.

As well as the food waste bags...

So OK, I was thirteen places off the lead in the 'figure of eight two tunnels and a jump' speed game (fourteen entrants). The winner scored fifteen tunnels in the allotted minute. I managed four, which is surely pretty good for a first go, what with the distracting cacophony of barking and shouting. Really I would have done so much better were it not for 'handler errors', like Gail kept placing herself in my way, giving confusing and panicky hand signals and at one point she threw a treat into the tunnel so of course I stopped to eat it, what on earth is one supposed to do?

I can't tell you how disappointed I was not to be allowed to enter the weave contest (on the spurious grounds that I've never yet in my life successfully executed a proper weave manouevre....) but I will concede I might not actually have won. One collie surely broke the speed of light.

Oh but if only we had some pictures, or even a video, of the final game. You would be so impressed to see me jumping round and round the 'cube' of hurdles, barely missing out a single one. I was all a blur, just like this photo of one of my fellow contestants.

Eleven hurdles in fifty seconds saw me half way down the field. Impressive, eh? Oh, no, here goes Gail again, trying to undermine my achievements, telling me to say they specially lowered the jumps for 'the novice'.

It's a good job isn't it, that I have such impregnable self belief.

I shall be getting around to the Higgs boson another day.

The calm after the storm

2011-12-11T07:48:00.001Z

We went over to Torridon to check up on the cottage.

Did someone say there's been bad weather in Scotland?

We'll let the pictures do the talking today - just this once...

Northern winter light, or treats? (+weather update)

2011-12-09T06:07:00.008Z

I have often noticed that humans and dogs have different ideas about what makes a good photo.

For example, from our walk in the woods last weekend, Gail's favourite pictures were all about "Oh Bertie look how the bare birch trees and the fields are bathed in softly glowing winter light blah blah blah...."

Whereas it's quite obvious that by far the best picture...

...is the one where I am being given treats by Jake's owner Yvonne whilst my nemesis Jake is skulking in the undergrowth somewhere off camera.

No contest!

PS from Gail: thanks readers for all your excellent suggestions for a fancy costume that Bertie might actually tolerate. I think we'll be going with the seasonal collar concept.

PPS We had a big storm in Scotland yesterday, as reported in this morning's Guardian under the headline "It's raining hats and dogs"!

Pandas prompt a touch of inter-species jealousy

2011-12-06T06:04:00.032Z

I don't know about you but I am fed up to the back teeth with all the gushing media coverage about the new arrivals at Edinburgh Zoo.

So giant pandas TianTian and Yang Guang, aka Sweetie and Sunshine, arrived here in Scotland on Sunday morning, all the way from Beijing on their own private jet, having apparently enjoyed inflight meals of bamboo, apples, carrots, a 'special panda cake' and mineral water. The zoo will be paying China the princely sum of a million dollars a year for the privilege of housing the pair. An enclosure specially built for the ~~spoilt brats~~ honoured guests has cost more than a flat in Edinburgh New Town.

What's the big deal about giant pandas anyway? Why do humans make such a fuss over them?

It can't be their sophisticated taste buds. (More bamboo, anyone?) They don't exactly have interesting sex lives. (Once a year, if Yang Guang's lucky, by all accounts.) And you can see eyes like that all over Glasgow any morning after an Old Firm game. (Gail says this last comment is in dubious taste, and reflects badly on Scotland.)

And no it is not that I, as a wire-haired fox terrier, am simply jealous of a rival species that beats even me in the 'looking like a cute toy' stakes. Nor that I envy TianTian and Yang Guang their £70,000 annual food budget.

It's just, oh I don't know, pandas don't do anything. They lead such boring lives. I mean, imagine a panda's blog.

Day 1 - ate bamboo
Day 2 - ate more bamboo
Day 3 - ate more bamboo
and so on until perhaps
Day 300 - thought about sex
Day 301 - went off the idea and ate bamboo instead.

Bertie WFTer the Christmas Fairy ?

2011-12-03T08:52:00.007Z

An invitation dropped through the email earlier in the week. It has caused great consternation in this household.

"Christmas is coming. I hope you are all getting your fancy dress costumes ready for your four legged friend! The Deeside Dog Agility Club agility Christmas party is at Drumforskie Barn on Monday 12 December 2011 from 7pm. There will be a fancy dress competition plus agility games for you to try. Each game will be suitable for everyone and needless to say they will be lots of fun. Unfortunately so that every member can join in, dog numbers are restricted to one dog per handler for the evening. We would ask if everyone would take with them a Secret Santa present (up to approx £5 value), a raffle prize for our HUGE raffle, something for the buffet and of course loads of money to buy raffle tickets!! (Presents/raffles can be for either human or dogs!). Deeside provides soft drinks for those who are unfortunately driving - or too young - but if you wish to have some alcohol, please take your own. It is always a really good night."

How is it that so short a paragraph could contain by implication so many patently absurd suggestions? For example, the notion that I could be persuaded to wear any kind of a costume, and not rip it to shreds in the two mile car ride 'twixt home and Drumforskie Barn. Or indeed the idea that Gail's limited creative powers might stretch to devising a fancy dress outfit anyway, much less one that is compatible with 'agility games'. Or the thought that I am likely to cooperate calmly in an event that takes place in a big barn full of hyperactive collies, terriers, poodles and the like, with food and drink available and raffle prizes to be torn apart.

Oh and one thing I am not clear about. Am I allowed my own alcohol or am I too young?

PS from Gail: HELP!!! Any ideas for Bertie-proof costumes gratefully received.....

Quietly assertive or just plain bossy?

2011-11-30T07:03:00.000Z

Do your humans ever make the mistake of assuming that just because they are friends with someone, then you will automatically be best pals with that person's dog...

It doesn't always work like that does it?

It might look from the photos above that, when Gail went for a walk in Glen Tanar with her friend Yvonne on Sunday, Yvonne's flat-coated retriever Jake and I were getting along just fine. I think that's the impression Gail sought to create with her highly selective camera work.

Let me list for you some of the pictures that could have been taken but weren't.

In my house before we left:

Jake eating my food
Jake drinking my water
Jake laying on my bed
Jake monopolising my spot by the radiator
Jake tearing the nose off my favourite stuffed Newfie dog

En route to Glen Tanar:

Jake peering over from the boot of the car in an irritating manner
Me on Gail's lap in the front seat, barking loudly in response
Yvonne driving, gloating "isn't my Jakey a good, quiet dog?"

Out walking in the forest:

Jake unfairly taking advantage of his longer legs to beat me in a race through the undergrowth
Jake after a swim, shaking himself dry all over me (and Gail, and Yvonne)
Jake stealing the stick I was chewing from OUT OF MY VERY MOUTH!!

But you know what irritated me more than anything? Overhearing Gail say to Yvonne; "Isn't it fascinating the way Jake is so calmly and quietly assertive".

FASCINATING!? Grrrrrhhh

Here are some ~~Jake-free~~ better photos from the walk. (We stayed in the glen 'cos it was too windy to go climbing any hills).

PLEASE LET ME INTO THE TEA SHOP!

PS from Gail: should any readers ever visit Royal Deeside, I thoroughly recommend the 'Sign of the Black-Faced Sheep' café in Aboyne for the most delicious post-walk cakes!

Dogs and bankers

2011-11-27T06:23:00.044Z

We venture even further into dangerous territory today....

You might remember that a couple of months ago I was most upset about a Royal Bank of Scotland advert which implied that us terriers did bad things like chewing up cards...

Well I am pleased to report that someone has take note of my objections and there is a new and much more satisfactory RBS advert out now.

Golly gosh Gail isn't that a nice poster! Why don't you put some of our savings in that bank, after all they seem such a caring institution?

Oh dear, my innocent comment has elicited a stream of very rude words from Gail. How uncharacteristic.

.....

Now that she's calmed down a bit I think I can decipher some of what she's trying to say.

She's spluttering on about the fact that she, the taxpayer, gave £37 billion to RBS a couple of years ago, so that they could keep on paying their senior staff huge boneses (?) and she doesn't feel like putting any more of her hard earned pennies their way just yet....

Well now let me see. There are about 10 million dogs in the UK. So if the government had given the £37 billion to dogs instead of bankers, that would be £3,700 per dog, which could be soundly invested in treats, days out and vet bills. Yes I am beginning to see Gail's point. It is a lot of money.

Oh, Gail has started spluttering again.

Apparently I'm taking a selfish view of matters and it is not the government's role to buy treats for pets, rather they could have used the money to pay more to humans who actually do useful jobs, like teachers and nurses and care workers.

But we dogs do valuable work too don't we, by providing entertainment, keeping our humans fit and spreading love?

This is all so complicated.

All things considered, perhaps I'll go back to card chewing after all.

Oh, I forgot. I never ever did chew a bank card. Honest!

Bertie: the picture of innocence

PS Gail is saying we're going to go for a lovely walk in the hills today, never mind the gale force winds, she thinks it will do both of us good.

An unexpected encounter by the Trent

2011-11-23T05:51:00.010Z

I don't know if any of my friends suffer from the same problem, but Gail is totally hopeless when it comes to photographing people and dogs that we spot when out on our daily walks.

It's not like she's shy in general. Well perhaps a bit, with humans she doesn't know.

Anyway, it sometimes happens that I want her to take a photo and she says, "no Bertie, I'd feel awkward", and I have to illustrate my posts with the help of images from the internet instead.

So it was last weekend. When walking along the river Trent we met an elderly gentleman in what I thought was a funny hat, out for a morning leg stretch with his enormous and exceptionally handsome Rhodesian ridgeback.

They stopped to say hello. We found out that the dog's name was Raja. I bounced around him for a few moments, but then left off as he didn't seem to want to play (see I am learning). Raja's owner smiled politely at me and, in a gentle and well-spoken voice, said that he was so sorry but now that Raja was ten he wasn't very sociable any more.

Gail later explained that the gentleman was a 'Sikh' and that he was wearing a turban, not a funny hat. He looked strange to me 'cos we don't tend to see Sikhs in the north of Scotland, but apparently there are a lots in Nottingham. When Gail was a child many of the city bus conductors were Sikhs, then quite newly arrived from India, and they were allowed to wear the city council badge on their turbans, rather than the standard uniform cap.

I rather liked the look of the turban. What fun it would be to unravel! I bet Raja had a blast when he was a puppy.

Oh, I am being told to stop rambling on. Gail fears I am veering into dangerous territory.

But I was only trying to tell you about an encounter that I thought you might find interesting.

Happy memories

2011-11-21T06:04:00.017Z

Gosh Gail took about a squillion photos of our big trip down south to celebrate Human Grandad's 90th birthday. But she says I have to select only a dozen, maximum, and that I do not have much time on the computer to tell you all about the trip 'cos she is super busy this week.

Well here goes. Rush rush rush.

Of course we travelled to Nottingham by railway. As you know I am by now a seasoned train traveller.

But I bet you didn't know that the train company supplies me with my own personalised crisps.

A shame that they can't spell, but what's a dog to do?

Oh, Gail is saying to remember it's "not all about me" and that people will want to see some pictures of the Birthday Boy.

Well here he is, together with Human Granny of course (they have been together for fifty five years).

Do you like his birthday cake?

I did sample a wee morsel myself and am pleased to report that it was just delicious.

Oh and here we all are, out for the promised birthday walk by the River Trent

I expect you will have noticed that HGD is not wearing a hat. I am mortified to admit I totally forgot that I was not supposed to let him out of the house unless he was well wrapped up. In mitigation, I plead that the weather was unusually mild for November. And that HGD still has a covering of distinguished white hair, anyway. And that you will see I am keeping a careful eye on him.

The next day I went for a longer walk by the river with Gail, and contemplated swimming out to greet a swan.

But then I dipped my paw in the muddy water and thought the better of it, remembered that I am not a water dog, and retreated back to terra firma and the nice broad grassy path.

The perfect place for a terrier to tear around.

In the grandparents' house, I of course made myself thoroughly at home. So many comfy spots to chose from.

But oh too soon it was time to come home.

I was able to read a few blogs on the journey back.

We changed trains at Edinburgh again.

I think Edinburgh might just be the dog-friendliest city in the world. We had a hour to walk around the city centre and if Gail's camera battery had not run out, I would have been able to show you pictures of all the many kind folk who stopped to admire me and give me a friendly pat as I performed an early evening promenade up and down the Royal Mile and Princes Street (still no trams).

So many happy memories. Can we go back to Nottingham soon Gail?

PS I would like to assure my marvellous Aunties Martha and Bailey Basset that I also gave ninety barks for Human Grandad. Unfortunately, Gail seems to think that on the train between Doncaster and Durham was not the right place to do it, and that the rude gentleman who we overheard saying, as the train pulled out of Newcastle station, "oh I hoped the dog would be getting off there" might have had some justification for his comments....

Human Grandad's 90th birthday

2011-11-18T06:13:00.016Z

So, Gail and I are off to Nottingham for a few days to celebrate Human Grandad's 90th birthday.

I wanted to buy Human Grandad (HGD) a present but Gail said that he doesn't really need more 'stuff' and that what he would like most is for us to spend time with him, and take him out for short walks in the Nottinghamshire countryside.

Well that sounds fine by me.

Gail has been briefing me on how best I can help make sure that HGD enjoys our walks. She says now that I'm one and three quarters it's time to take on some responsibilities.

So let me stop bouncing around for a moment and see if I can remember all the instructions.

I have to go quite slowly, or at least if I rush ahead I have to keep looking round to check that HGD is still in sight.
I have to remember where we have been and how to get back, in case HGD forgets the way.
HGD is very thin these days and feels the cold, so Gail and I need to check that he has a good thick coat, plus hat, scarf and gloves with him. If he wears his hat with the funny flaps, I am not to laugh or feel embarrassed.
There is a danger that HGD might take a tumble, as he is rather wobbly. But I needn't be too alarmed if he does. He will most likely get up again, apparently unharmed, and say to Gail, rather proudly, "I used to play rugby, so I know how to fall". But best not to lick his face when he's down anyway.
I am not allowed to bark in the car, as sudden loud noises make HGD very anxious and jumpy. Human Granny says it's something to do with his time as an RAF pilot in 'The War'.
Sometimes HGD tells the same story over and over again. I don't know why Gail thinks that this is exceptional. After all, she's always repeating things too. Like "NO Bertie, NO, NO, NO, NO!
I am to observe how HGD will always touch his cap, if we meet a lady when we are out walking. This is apparently a polite old-fashioned human gesture and sets a good example of civilised behaviour.

Well none of that sounds too impossible does it?

I am so looking forward to my visit.

Greatest living Englishman?

2011-11-14T06:08:00.020Z

On a dreich November Sunday, what better way to spend the morning than snuggled up on the bed with Gail, watching 'Frozen Planet' again on BBC iPlayer, and channelling one's inner wolf.

I don't know if my friends outside the UK will have had the privilege of seeing this latest series of wildlife programmes from our incomparable David Attenborough.

If not, perhaps you would like to watch a clip (click here).

Gail wants to know if any readers can think of a more admirable citizen of this country than the eighty five year old Sir David Frederick Attenborough, OM, CH, CVO, CBE, FRS, FZS,FSA?

She says, forget about all the no-talent celebrities, the bankers, the politicians, the tabloid reporters, the prima donna footballers, and think for a moment about a man who has truly enriched lives of TV viewers in the UK and beyond for nearly sixty years with his gentle and intelligent enthusiasm, making programmes about the natural world that never fail to enthrall us whilst we also learn much of enduring value.

Now we are not at all sure if Sir David is a 'dog person'. We googled 'David Attenborough dogs' and the best we found was a video of him talking about dissecting a spaniel. What we do know is that anyone whose love of his subject is so great that he will, in his ninth decade, go traipsing around the Polar regions with a camera crew, still full of vigour and sparkle, creating television of matchless quality, should be celebrated and treasured.

I am just a young pup and Gail insists that she is relatively young too(!) We look at Mr Attenborough and feel inspired but also humbled.

Hand-me-downs and duck tape

2011-11-11T06:00:00.021Z

Maybe some of you out there in the wider world are not aware of Aberdeen's reputation in Scotland.

Whereas in England they make jokes about all Scots being too careful with the pennies, north of the border, stinginess is a trait attributed in particular to the Aberdonians.

No dog would want a tight-fisted owner would they? I remember being a bit nervous when I was a tiny wee pup and was told I'd be going to live in the 'Granite City'. Would I ever be bought treats, I wondered? My mind was set at rest when I learned that my owner Gail was a migrant from England, presumably free from any genetic tendency to excessive frugality.

Events this week have forced me to conclude that environment trumps DNA.

Do you remember I mentioned in my last post that I was thinking of requesting a raincoat for Christmas?

No soon as I'd pressed the 'publish post' button, than Gail came bounding downstairs brandishing this...

...and saying "Bertie there's no need at all to go writing letters to Lapland. I have just the thing for you. Look, I bought this lovely red jacket for your predecessor Hamish two Christmases ago, but he only lived a few weeks after that so it's as good as new!"

Leaving aside the questionable taste issue of wearing a dead dog's clothes, I expect you, like me, have spotted another big flaw in Gail's proposal.

She can't possibly imagine that I'm going to parade around Aberdeen with 'Hamish' embroidered across my back, can she? (Fine old chap though I'm sure he was.)

My friends would be most confused, and might accuse me of disrespect.

"Oh but I've thought of that Bertie," said Gail, always the clever clogs. "I've been reading all about different uses of duck tape on Frankie Furter's blog this week and it gave me an idea".

Frankie, you might be Mayor of Blogville but you have much to answer for.

Can you believe anyone could be so cheap?

I am pleased to report that the story has a happy ending. I am at the skinnier end of the WFT spectrum, whereas those of you who knew Hamish will remember him as a solid, sturdy Westie.

So it turns out that the jacket is totally the wrong shape for me, especially around the neck area. And I know full well that Gail is useless at needlework so I think I'm safe after all.

Can anyone recommend a WFT shaped coat? Stylish, hardwearing and waterproof, please.

PS. For the post in which Hamish proudly modelled his new red jacket click here.

It's nae affa bonnie the day *...

2011-11-09T06:47:00.006Z

The true picture of a typical walk in the Highlands of Scotland. At any time of the year (in Summer add midges). As seldom seen in the holiday brochures.

You know what? I might be prepared to relax the clothing ban and ask Santa for a raincoat this Christmas!

PS Thanks to Margaret for risking a waterlogged camera to take a photo of this soggy scene. There is a good reason why she only took the one ...

*Translation of title from NE Scots to English: It's not very nice weather today.

Well? What then?

2011-11-07T06:20:00.002Z

I can't for the life of me see what's so funny.

Surely anyone can see that legs straight in the air is a good way to sleep?

And that it is important to ensure a good air flow to one's (now nicely developed) male parts.

A dog's guide to Europe's financial crisis

2011-11-03T10:48:00.017Z

I guess I'm not the only dog that has no choice but to listen to the news every morning while their human is eating breakfast. For example, Gail, being a stereotypical Guardian-reader type, munches away at her muesli to the soundtrack of the Today Programme on BBC Radio 4.

I expect too that you, like me, have been struggling to understand the baffling jargon you hear whenever someone (especially that Peston chappie*) comes on to 'explain' the latest financial crisis.

Help is at hand! I have been hard at work reinterpreting the terminology from a canine perspective. I can even offer some creative dog-centric solutions to Europe's woes:

First, let us deal with those much talked of 'haircuts'. Apparently banks object to having 'haircuts' every bit as much as certain dogs I could mention. I asked Gail why the banks were not then hand-stripped like me? Of course, if we consider one's coat as a major asset, then I think it becomes clear too what these finance bods mean when they talk about asset stripping....

So, moving on to the 'credit crunch'. Surely some sort of rather splendid kibble, or indeed a particularly healthy type of human breakfast cereal? Apparently not. A 'credit crunch' means that you can't borrow money to buy any kind of food or anything else, so is in fact a BAD THING.

The other day they were saying that 'China' might help solve the debt crisis in 'Greece'. Let me tell you in this kitchen it's considered a crisis when the China is all covered in Greece. Of course if dogs were allowed to lick the best dinner plates clean the problem would be solved in an instant, but strangely, Frau Merkel and Monsieur Sarkozy haven't yet thought of this blindingly obvious solution.

As for 'interest rates' and 'bonds'. Well us dogs are experts on this topic, as it is strongly in our interest to achieve a close bond with our humans. But I must say, for what it's worth, I can't help but think that Italy's problems might stem from Signor Berlusconi's high interest levels in a non-financial gender specific type of bond...

Finally, any dog could tell you that a system which allows 'bears' and 'bulls' to rampage around the market is bound to end up in trouble. The notion that things are going well when a bull is in the vicinity is clear evidence of the sort of warped mentality that triggered all the problems in the first place. May I respectfully suggest that, if we started referring to 'wire-haired fox terrier markets', the whole financial system would bounce back into the best of shape in no time at all!

All clear now?

*Robert Peston - BBC News Business Editor, famed for both his regular news scoops and his strangulated diction.

Keeping faith with Hamish

2011-10-31T06:12:00.005Z

Sometimes, posts on other dog blogs prompt Gail to tell me a story about my predecessor Hamish the Westie. So it was with Saturday's Rottrover post, in which Bart and Ruby's humans donated treats to the local dog rescue home, but decided they were not yet ready for a new pup. (In case you don't know them, I should explain that the Rottrover household recently lost one of their brave and much loved Rottweilers, Gizmo, to a nasty form of cancer).

Well Hamish, who also had a blog of course, was getting to be a very old chap by the winter of 2010. At the end of his post on Wednesday 17th February, he related how he'd collapsed on a freezing walk by the beach in Aberdeen and had to be carried back to the car. Gail has now filled me in with more details from that day.

Just before the walk they'd been to the big pet store to buy a new bag of kibble. Gail knew that her dear old Westie's health was failing, and the thought had even crossed her mind "is it worth buying him a large, 19kg bag? I'm not sure he'll last that long". She picked up a 5kg bag, then looked down at Hamish and his characterful, expressive face, and set the bag down again, feeling guilty, as if she had been about to break faith with her beloved first ever dog. She purchased the 19kg bag of 'senior' dog kibble after all.

Hamish only lasted one more day.

Shortly afterwards, an unopened 19kg bag of dog food was donated to the local stray animal shelter.

Two months later, I came to live with Gail and bring new joy to her heart.

Gail says she doesn't regret one penny she spent on that last bag of 'formulated for the senior dog' kibble.

And, phew, what a relief, she says she definitely doesn't regret that I came into her life so soon after she lost Hamish. Although she will now admit, there were moments when I was a troublesome wee pup (troublesome, me?), tearing noisily around the house and looking for more clothes to shred, when she would picture in her mind dear Hamish resting contentedly by her side on the sofa and wonder how well she and I would bond and if indeed she was the one who had bitten off more than they could chew.

As if the bicycle were not bad enough (Bertie has a wee rant)

2011-10-28T06:03:00.021+01:00

I knew my readers were smart!

Yes, several of you guessed correctly. The cloud on the horizon referred to on Monday's post was indeed Gail's new ONE PERSON sea kayak.

Oh if only I had had the chance to discuss matters with Gail before the kayak was finished.

See, I found this picture on the internet:

And this one:

I cannot imagine why I was not thought of. I mean, it isn't as if it is a shop bought kayak even. Gail keeps telling me how Florian, who built the vessel from a design by Thomas Yost, is a most wonderful craftsman. Well Florian, I have to tell you, I'm not convinced. I mean, if you really were such a 'Handwerksmeister' (he's German you know) then you could easily have put in a berth for a wee wire-haired fox terrier could you not? After all, ich bin ganz klein. Nur acht Kilogramm. Kein Problem für einen sogenannten Handwerksmeister, glaube ich!

Huh!

What's that Gail? You're saying I'd have to wear a life jacket and a 'skirt', which wouldn't suit a dog that can barely tolerate a bandana? Oh don't be ridiculous. I don't see those fine pups in the photos above sporting any kind of strange get-up.

Friends, it is so tiresome to live with a human who has hobbies. Just when I thought the whole bicycling thing was the final straw.

And no I am not "making a fuss about nothing". In fact, I've barely even started...

As if it were not hurtful enough that Gail should want to venture on to Loch Torridon without me, separated from the chilly salt water only by a piece of PVC glued onto a skinny wooden frame, now I learn the reason she wants to do this.

Otters. Seals. Puffins. Dolphins and porpoises. Yes that's right. She wants to look at OTHER ANIMALS out there on the sea loch.

Now I'm a tolerant sort of a chap. Wire-haired fox terriers are few and far between in Northern Scotland so I can accept that Gail might want to cast a glance at different type of terrier every now and then. Just to reassure herself of my own exceptional handsomeness, you understand. And I act quite good natured (despite seething inside) when she goes all weak the knees at the sight of an Alaskan Malamute. But really, is it necessary to look beyond the species Canis lupus familiaris when we are so many and so varied?

Well there is no other option. If you can't beat 'em join 'em.

Gail, please stop harping on about tedious irrelevances like "but you won't even go near water normally Bertie".

I am going to write to Florian and request my own personally designed sea kayak. And yes I do realise that doggy paddle is nothing to do with propelling a canoe. I shall, naturally, be expecting Gail to give me a tow.

Now let me see, where's the German dictionary...?

Sehr geehrter Herr Florian,
ich hätte gern ein schönes Seekajak für einen kleinen Hund der vom Wasser ein bißchen Angst hat...

A cloud on the horizon...?

2011-10-24T15:29:00.010+01:00

It might seem to you, looking at these photos taken last weekend over in Torridon, that I was having a simply splendid time with Gail and her friends.

Well that was true, up to a point, I suppose.

But there was one new development that I am really not at all happy about.

I can't tell you more just now, 'cos Gail is extra busy this week and she says she won't be able to help me with my typing for a few days. But take a close look at the pictures below, and perhaps you can guess what might be worrying me?

Posing in front of Slioch

Breakfast time, and some new admirers: Angela, Sebastian and Alexander

I agree with Gail. Monopoly IS boring.....

Supervising Florian, as he puts the finishing touches to Gail's new sea kayak

Florian takes the new kayak (which he built from scratch!) on its maiden voyage

Don't go too far out across Loch Torridon, Florian, it's getting dark!

One can lose patience posing, even with the nicest of families

Sometimes it's best just to hide in the undergrowth

Can you believe Gail threw me into Loch Maree at the end of this walk?

At least all is well when I'm with my new best friend Sebastian

To be continued.....

Hula Hoops versus salt marsh lamb

2011-10-20T12:47:00.010+01:00

I inadvertently caused confusion amongst my non-British readers with Monday's post, in which I told of my extreme disappointment at being offered Hula Hoops to eat, when I had explicitly asked for salt marsh reared lamb from Marks and Spencer.

Who knew that 'Hula Hoops' (the foodstuff) were unique to the UK? Is the rest of the world missing out? I think not.

To plagiarise Wikipedia "Hula Hoops are a potato based snack, in the shape of short hollow cylinders".

They don't look exciting. They don't taste exciting.

Whereas salt marsh lamb on the other paw.....

... would be well worth a wet walk to Marks and Spencer.

Oh. Sigh. If only I were allowed inside.

[Note from Gail: I have long observed that Bertie is a supermarket snob. He is in fact quite happy to be tied up outside M&S, and tolerably content waiting by the entrance to Sainsbury's or Tesco. He barks his little head off if taken anywhere near an Asda*, and as for discount stores Lidl and Aldi, well I'm afraid we're in teeth baring and vicious snarling territory. One day we'll make a pilgrimage to Waitrose in Edinburgh, to test the theory further. I predict Bertie will be rolling on the pavement in ecstasy. (Apologies again to readers from outside the UK, but you're a smart bunch, I think you'll get the gist).]

Sadly, there was no sign of salt marsh reared lamb anywhere on the shelves of M&S this week. So we had to settle for the plain jane option instead:

I am delighted to report that Gail came over all generous for once, and gave me a good sized portion. And that the Scotch lamb loin chop, "slowly matured for succulence and tenderness", was...

...TOTALLY YUMMERS!

But I am still going to email Markies and ask when they'll have their salt marsh special in again.

*owned by Walmart

Disappointment on Bennachie...

2011-10-17T06:07:00.017+01:00

Bennachie - a distinctive Aberdeenshire landmark topped by an ancient hill fort

So on Sunday afternoon Gail and I went out for a walk up Bennachie with her friend Ian the oil man, home for a week from Dubai.

In such a glorious sunny October weather, you would have thought nothing could possibly spoil the day.

You would be wrong.

When Ian stopped for a sandwich half way down I minded my manners and waited patiently. (I hope that Michael is reading this...)

Then, I caught a whiff of Marks and Spencer's salt marsh reared lamb on the gentle autumn breeze, and moved just a wee bit closer to Ian.

Now I know that Ian is missing his two Westies, Florrie and Lucy, who are currently lodging with his son Jonathan whilst Ian is working abroad.

So I was utterly confident he would be unable to resist my pleading eyes, framed by my cute, fuzzy little face.

Oh I am so disappointed to have to report that he was able to resist, and parted with only a microscopic quantity of lamb, then tried to fob me off with these.

Yes, hula hoops. Life is so unfair.

But the story may yet have a happy ending. Gail, whose favourite meat is lamb, has absolutely promised me that we will go down to 'Markies', only a ten minute walk from home, and seek out this special delicacy as soon as possible and that I will be allowed a decent portion.

Please cross your paws that this really happens.

Delusions of grandeur

2011-10-15T06:24:00.004+01:00

Long time readers of this blog will recall that I once tried to persuade Gail to move into a country estate with a castle.

Well, I have become resigned to the fact that I am basically going to be a city dog, and that's fine, that's quite OK with me, so long as I am taken out at weekends for long and adventurous country walks. Which I often am.

However, my visit to Diane and Bunty's residence last week brought home the fact that I live in neither the grandest nor the prettiest house in this part of Aberdeen. This doesn't seem right, does it?

So now that I am feeling much bouncier again, but am still not allowed to fraternise with my pals in the park on account of my cough, I have been out and about in the local neighbourhood, looking for an upgrade.

Do you not think this impressive corner residence would suit me well?

Of course it would be nice to have a place with columns,

and a pleasingly curvaceous end.

Or how about some interesting window detail?

Maybe a Flemish style frontage?

Oh look, this one's actually for sale.

Gail is making such petty objections. Like that she has no need of a gym when she has me. And that 'offers over £700,000' is rather a lot of money....

Well if we can't have a bigger house, why not a prettier one?

I quite like these cottage style homes.

Especially the ones with colourful front gardens.

Or what about this? It might be cheaper 'cos the windows are in need of repair.

Yes, come to think about it, if only Gail would buy a big old house to renovate. That would be such fun. I'm fantasizing about a constant stream of workmen feeding me jaffa cakes, just like my blog pal Wilfy in France.

Oh, Gail is saying she is not sure that Wilf's blog is the greatest ever advert for the joys of renovating an old house.....

And I am being asked what exactly is wrong with our own home anyway? Is it not comfortable, solidly built of Aberdeen granite, the right size, in a quiet yet convenient location, surrounded by kind and friendly neighbours, just perfect for us in fact?

Well yes, you know, put like that, I guess I don't want to move after all.

Square dog?

2011-10-12T06:17:00.021+01:00

Health updates:

Bertie: the vet poked me in various places and diagnosed kennel cough. He prescribed "just wait a few days and he'll probably feel better" therapy. Thirty pounds well spent??? I did eat a bit of food yesterday (marmite smeared kibble and some scraps of chicken) but I'm still coughing and lacking in bounce.

Gail: feeling just hunky dory after my operation - three cheers for the 'free at the point of use' NHS and for keyhole surgery.

Thank you so much, dear readers, for all your good wishes.

Not feeling so bouncy

2011-10-10T06:11:00.009+01:00

Oh woe is me. And I am normally so full of beans.

This last couple of days I haven't been full of anything. No appetite, not much energy, the occasional bout of trembling and my throat feels all sore and I've been coughing a nasty dry cough, especially when I pull on my lead.

Gail is looking all concerned and it seems I will be visiting the vet later today. Meanwhile, I am being offered (but mostly refusing) soft food, and am wearing this harness for walks so I don't further irritate my throat.

This is the first time ever that I've been poorly, and of course, given that I am possessed of a Y chromosome, I am feeling exceptionally sorry for myself....

PS from Gail: Could it be kennel cough? Although Bertie was innoculated against this virus back in April.

A lady of impeccable taste

2011-10-07T06:01:00.041+01:00

"Come on Bertie, rouse yourself!" Gail said yesterday morning. "We're going round to my friend Diane's for coffee. And she has something in her living room I particularly want to show you."

It had better be worth it, I thought to myself, having just settled down for my morning nap.

It's only a five minute walk to Diane's elegant residence.

Gail pointed to the tower on the corner of the building, and said "You're not going to believe what's in there Bertie".

Once we were both inside, Gail kept pointing in excited fashion towards a fireplace.

So I went over to investigate.

Wow! Oh this really is exciting. (I confess I had had my doubts). Can you see what I see?

Are those really wire-haired fox terriers on the fire irons?

Let's have a closer look.

I asked Gail to move them so we could get a clearer photo.

I can't tell you how thrilled I am. I feel so special now. You can keep your Westie mugs and border collie calendars, how many dog breeds have their very own design of fire irons?

Oh, Gail is now telling me about Diane and what an amazing person she is. Well, to be frank, as a dog, I am not all that interested in the best-selling books she's written about local history. And awards and prizes and honorary degrees aren't really my thing. Yes I'm sure it's impressive to be one of the first female Burgesses of Aberdeen, if Gail says so, but...

But what I do know is that anyone who exhibits wire-haired fox terrier fire irons in her living room is indeed a quite remarkable lady of impeccable taste (and never mind that her own pup Bunty - sadly not present yesterday - is a border terrier.....)

The Aberdeen MacTaco: for Jazzi

2011-10-04T06:00:00.083+01:00

Several of you reading this will know my wee Scottie pal Jazzi. She lives in Illinois, has a troublesome bulldog sister Addy, and every single one of her frequent blog posts will make you smile. (For evidence of this, click here to see her special post for my Earth Science class last year....)

Well anyway, Jazzi has a bit of a thing about tacos. 'A bit of a thing' - that's British Understatement, by the way. So today, 4th October 2011, she is celebrating National Taco Day, and she has invited all her friends to participate by posting a photo of themselves eating a taco..

Oh this has caused me so much stress and anxiety. I have never seen a taco, except on Jazzi's blog. They are not part of the Scottish diet. Plus, Gail cannot drive while she recovers from 'the belly button thing', so I am not in a position to scour the length and breadth of Aberdeen to hunt down taco ingredients. Whatever they are anyway. What to do? I so wanted to join in.

Well I wrote to Jazzi about my dilemma and she kindly suggested I could 'improvise', and indicated that the definition of what constitutes a 'taco' would not be interpreted too strictly.

So Gail allowed me to have a rummage around the food cupboard and the fridge, and this is what I have come up with. An original creation, I am sure you will agree.

In this 'MacTaco', I feel I have achieved a successful blend of the traditional and the novel, and incorporated a uniquely Scottish flavour with the oatcakes. Gail has suggested that it might be helpful to readers if I label all the ingredients....

Can you believe Gail confiscated the chocolate almonds before I even had a chance to taste one!

PS I want to thank Jazzi specially for organising such a fun event. Do visit her blog for more on National Taco Day. I am so over the rugby.

The tension mounts (a house divided)

2011-09-30T15:05:00.005+01:00

So, now that I am back from my morning walk with my friend Sheila, I am going to explain to those of you unfamiliar with certain aspects of British culture, why tomorrow will be a tense day in the Bertie-Gail household.

It's all because of the Rugby World Cup in New Zealand. Scotland are playing England for a place in the quarter finals at 8:30 am, our time.

Now of course, being a typical Scot, my sporting interest revolves around a passionate desire to see England beaten. By absolutely anyone, anywhere, any time. But especially of course by Scotland.

Well, as you all know, the English are arrogant, smug, over-bearing, uptight, need I go on?

The tricky thing is that Gail is actually English. So long as she keeps her mouth shut, I can pretend otherwise. After all, she is pale-skinned and a bit freckly, not that arrogant, and the longer she stays in Aberdeen the more moths fly out on the rare occasions she opens her purse to buy me a treat... She fits in quite well here. But then she gives it all away the minute she calls out "Buh-tie", not "Bearrr-tie" when I am running around in the park. The shame.

And you know what REALLY GETS MY GOAT!!!

To hear Gail going round saying, in those oh so patronising English tones, things like "well I do like to see the Scotland team do well, on the whole, even though I basically support England".

Grrrrhhh. Can you hear me gnashing my teeth?

So Saturday morning could turn into a right stramash. Forget about being nice to the convalescent.

PS From Gail:
Q: How do you spot a well-balanced Scotsman/dog?
A: They'll have a chip on both shoulders.

So happy that things are back to normal ...

2011-09-28T18:48:00.003+01:00

Well nearly, anyway.

I was let out of 'camp' this morning. I have to tell you I was ever so slightly miffed to learn that Gail had been back from hospital since Saturday, but I was so pleased to be home too I wasn't going to make a big deal about it.

She keeps singing the praises of something called 'keyhole surgery'. I don't know about that but I can tell you she has a bruise around her belly button more colourful than the fall foliage in a New England forest.

Oh, I am being told to change the subject, as some of my readers may be of sensitive disposition....

Well let me tell you, we are gearing up for Saturday's big Rugby World Cup game, Scotland versus England!

Meanwhile, I am going for walks in the park with a nice lady called Sheila, 'cos, can you believe, Gail has suddenly turned all lazy. (She is pretending it has something to do with the belly button thing).

A wee chat and a nice walk

2011-09-18T07:08:00.008+01:00

What's that Gail, you want a wee chat? Then here I am, bounce bounce, on your lap, all (exceptionally cute) ears.

Well Bertie, the thing is, I'm going to have to go into hospital for a few days next week, it's all happened very suddenly and I only just found out, but don't worry, I'll be right as rain again before too long.

Oh dear Gail, what's the matter, it's not my fault is it?

Silly billy Bertie, of course it's not not your fault. It's one of those women's problems you see...

[Bertie looks very alarmed and quick as a flash puts his paws over his (exceptionally cute) ears.]
No, no, that's OK Gail, I quite understand, I really don't need to hear any more details, us males are very sensitive about these matters you know. Let's talk about something else shall we? Like, what's going to happen to me while you're away?

You're going to be going camping Bertie! No it's not the 'prison' it's somewhere you've not been before. It's a lovely camp, run by that nice Kevin at the agility club. You know, the instructor who said you were 'a fantastic dog'. Believe me you'll be having a lot more fun than me.

I s'pose. But how long until I can come home?

You'll be away about a week I think. But Bertie, now do listen to me, I'm afraid that when I come out of hospital I'll be feeling a bit delicate, and there certainly won't be any of this bouncing up on my lap for a good while. You do understand that don't you? And I won't have as much energy as usual and will only be able to take you for very short trots round the block. But Jake's owners have kindly promised to take you for some 'proper' walks too, so that'll be fun won't it?

Walks with Jake? Yippee! Oh. And what about my blog?

Perhaps you'd better tell your readers that you won't be able to blog very much for the next week or so. But remember to say that you'll miss everyone and will be back as soon as possible.

Oh I will miss my bloggie pals. But hey, Gail, this is all a bit boring, can we post some pictures of the nice walk we had by the River Dee yesterday afternoon? After all, my readers don't come by this blog to read about horrid hospitals do they?

******************************

So. Here I am by the River Dee, just upstream from Banchory. It's been raining so much lately that the banks were on the verge of bursting, and the rapids were very, well, rapid.

We normally see men in waders standing in the water fly fishing on this stretch of the river, but I think today they'd have been swept away.

We did encounter one fishing party, but they were concentrating on the party side of things (I saw wine, whisky, yummy looking sandwiches and cakes on the picnic table).

I went inside to inspect their little hut. No-one seemed to mind. Gail said the man in the wellies looked like something out of 'Monarch of the Glen', which I believe was a BBC TV series best watched with the sound turned down so you could enjoy the scenery without bothering about the lame plots.

We saw another bigger cabin later.

But this one said 'private' so Gail didn't let me go and inspect it. I did at least get a close look at the Land Rover. So much more impressive than our puny little Mini.......

Yes it was a jolly nice walk, all in all.

Missing you already.

Absolutely not the thin end of the wedge

2011-09-14T06:43:00.003+01:00

OK now I want to make things quite clear here. I agreed JUST THIS ONCE to wear a bandana to show my support for Scotland in their remaining Rugby World Cup fixtures.

This is not a precedent, the thin end of the wedge, the slippery slope to wearing a tutu, no sir!

But oh I am so excited about this rugby tournament. If fact I am quite prepared to fly out to New Zealand and offer my services to the Scotland team. I have been practicing my tackling and rucking and scrummaging skills on the back lawn and would be ready and willing to bite any opponent if required. What I lack in bulk and paw-to-eye co-ordination I make up for in spades with terrier attitude.

PS Gail assures me that the bandana doesn't look at all girlie. She is telling the truth isn't she? Don't laugh.

The thistle, the sheep and the flexi-lead...

2011-09-12T15:10:00.012+01:00

Does your human ever suffer from the disease 'brightideasitis'?

It never comes to any good does it?

For example, let me tell you about what happened last week.

First you have to know that Gail's holiday cottage by Loch Torridon is near a croft and there are sheep wandering about all over the place, making all sorts of stupid baa-ing noises and generally asking to be chased by a spirited little wire-haired fox terrier.

But apparently the crofter, for some reason, is less than enthusiastic about the idea of yours truly trying to make friends with his precious flock. And he owns a shotgun.

So anyway, a couple of weeks ago Gail had the 'bright idea' to buy me a flexi-lead for use over at Torridon. She said that way I could have a bit more freedom than with my short city lead, but not be tempted into any naughtiness around the sheep.

Personally, I was never convinced.

For starters, have you ever tried one of these flexi-lead thingies? SO confusing. You think you can race around to your heart's content then suddenly, just as you're reaching full speed, aaarghhh!!! Then there's the problem that, seemingly at random, you find the lead is locked short and you might as well be on the non-flexi one, where at least you know where you stand.

Well anyway, there we were, walking up just past the croft, me dashing to and fro and generally trying to figure out this new walking regime when all of a sudden a sheep ran right in front of me and I just couldn't help but try to follow. It's in my nature. But then when I realised the lead was fully extended and the sheep beyond reach, I went, I admit, a little crazy and ran around in a circle. It just so happens, not my fault at all, that I had encircled a big prickly old thistle. I really don't want to repeat some of the words Gail was coming out with as she tried to disentangle the lead from the thistle. Let's just say "ow ow ow!' was the least of it! Then the sheep started baa-ing like it was making fun of me so of course I decided to show the world that a little terrier can make much a better noise than some big lumbering woolly lump that's destined to keep company with mint sauce on the dinner table .....

You know what? The good thing is, I do believe Gail is having second thoughts about her 'bright idea'.

Un Poseur? Moi?

2011-09-09T06:22:00.098+01:00

I can't believe that Gail has just accused me of being "a bit of a poser these days". After all the time and energy she's devoted to cajoling me into standing or sitting still in front of the camera in suitably scenic spots.

There's just no pleasing some folk.

So, what do you think, based on these pictures mostly taken last weekend over at Loch Torridon?

Me, standing proud in front of Beinn Dearg

Me, the first Autumn crocus and Hamish's memorial stone

Me, besides the exuberant waters of Abhainn Coire Mhic Nòbuil

Me, admiring the ever splendid view of Loch Torridon from the cottage garden

Me, lit by a shaft of sunlight, waiting to be taken outside to do more posing

Me, showing my appreciation of the Torridonian Sandstone

Me, in reflective mood in the cottage garden

Me, in guard dog pose (scared, aren't you, sheep?)

Me, the centrepiece of a stereotypical Scottish composition involving heather and mountains

Me, in the heather again (eat your heart out, Westies!)

You have to admit, I'm getting rather good at this posing lark, even though I say so myself.

Oh what's this? Gail is saying perhaps I might consider modelling some cute wee outfits then, like so many of my bloggie pals.

NO NO NO NO NO !!!

Quelle horreur.

The Torridon Echo

2011-09-06T06:24:00.021+01:00

Gail loves the garden of our cottage on Loch Torridon 'cos of the ever changing view over the sea loch and mountains, the colourful tangle of unkempt flowers, the fond memories of Hamish the Westie (whose ashes are buried here), the fresh salt-scented breeze, the, er, serenity...

I love it 'cos when I bark I can hear my own voice echoing back!

Can you hear me? Twice! (You may have to turn up the volume). The echo works better in some parts of the garden than in others - the acoustics experts amongst you will understand why.

Don't I sound great?

Oh. Gail is saying after all that row, I have to let her show you this tranquil photo of Loch Torridon, which she rushed outside to take at about 8:30 pm on Sunday evening, braving the clouds of wee midgies.

You can have too much peace and quiet Gail.

A worthy heir to 'Fred the Shred' ...

2011-09-03T07:07:00.015+01:00

I want to complain to the advertising standards watchdog!

How dare the Royal Bank of Scotland exploit a dear cute little pup in order to sell its products. And how dare they besmirch the good name of dogs in general in order to perpetrate myths that we cause problems for our humans.

As if!

Oh. Is that a chewed card you've found there Gail?

Absolutely nothing to do with me ....

PS from Gail for non-UK readers: 'Fred the Shred' is the nickname given to Fred Goodwin, former CEO of the Royal Bank of Scotland, who in 2008 presided over the biggest annual loss in British corporate history (£24 billion).

Not a wolf after all ....

2011-08-31T06:10:00.016+01:00

Has it ever occurred to you that the human species is not quite as bright as it's cracked up to be?

Well I could think of a multitude of examples to make my point (and no doubt you can too) but I'm just going to tell you about this new book that Gail's been reading this week.

'In Defence of Dogs". I think you'll agree that the title looks promising.

And as you know, this is a scientific household, so the fact that the book is by John Bradshaw, an anthrozoologist* at Bristol University, and is claimed to "use science to advocate for a better life for companion dogs" is also in its favour.

But hang on a minute.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT'S TAKEN 20 YEARS RESEARCH FOR THIS BLOKE TO CONCLUDE THAT DOGS DO NOT BEHAVE THE SAME AS WOLVES??!!

He could have saved so much time by coming to stay with me for a few days. After all, what wolf:

Goes to bed every night with a hot water bottle?
Likes more than anything else to be picked up and cuddled by a human?
Thinks everyone in the whole world will be his friend?
Writes a blog?

Oh. Wait a minute. Gail is telling me maybe there's more to it than not being a wolf. The author is saying that dog behaviour is all about sociability and cooperation rather than strict hierarchies. So the idea that us dogs need to dominated by their human is quite wrong.

This is beginning to sound much more interesting.

I have to tell you that Gail is only about half the way through the book, so if she finds out anything else useful, I'll pass it on.

*Anthrozoologist: that's someone who studies the science of human-animal interactions

But Gail we don't have a hurricane here ...

2011-08-28T10:40:00.003+01:00

Oh I am so disappointed today.

Gail had promised me that we would be going for another hill walk. I had been hoping to bag my third Munro.

And now she's saying that maybe we'll just have a short outing to the nearby woods instead 'cos it's too windy.

What kind of a wimp is she? I mean, there's all my blog friends battening down the hatches in the Eastern USA, where they are experiencing a properly terrifying and dangerous hurricane, and my wings are being clipped in the face of some normal Scottish August weather.

Look, I've found the Met Office mountain forecast for our area for today. It's not that bad:

Can you see (you may have to biggify) it says "No risk of strong sunlight". So what are you worrying about then Gail? That pale freckly skin of yours won't be going all pink today will it?

Oh this is boring. Why isn't everyone an optimist like me?

To all my friends confined to barracks in the face of Irene, I totally empathise.

Agility: progress report + Help for Horatio

2011-08-26T06:33:00.022+01:00

SUBJECT

TRAINER'S COMMENT

DOG'S COMMENT

Attention levels

Bertie must learn that barking at the horses in the adjacent field is not the point of the exercise.

I like attention. Why do all the other dogs get more attention than me? Especially that Maddy, just ‘cos she’s so hopeless at the ‘wait’ bit.

Speed over obstacles

Bertie could move faster if he put his mind to it, as he shows when chasing fellow trainee Maddy.

Look, if you go quickly then your turn is over too soon and that’s no fun.

Accuracy over obstacles

So long as he actually tackles the jumps, rather than dashing across the field to try and join the more advanced dogs, Bertie usually does well.

“Does well”? Talk about faint praise. I’m brilliant. Have I ever knocked down a jump? Ever? No? I rest my case. Oh and, what do you mean "more advanced"?

General behaviour

Bertie is not the worst behaved of the young dogs we have come across, but his tendency to go AWOL half way round the circuit needs attention.

Hey give me a break. Remember that I am a terrier, and unlike all those swotty collies, naughtiness is my birthright.

Areas for improvement

Bertie is far too fond of the sound of his own voice. We are less so.

I have noticed that some of the other dogs have treats that smell much better than the ones Gail brings for me.

Issues with handler

For someone who claims to have a PhD, Gail’s ability to remember the order of the obstacles seems rather poor.

See comment above. Plus, why are you always so ready to praise the other dogs Gail, yet so critical of me?

Maddy the Manchester Terrier (she's FAST!)

Dawn - one of the many swotty collies

PS My little wire haired fox terrier friend Horatio in Edinburgh needs your help!

He has been attending puppy school this summer, and has apparently made a big impression with his sparkling personality. For the final class next week, he is expected to perform a party trick. His humans are in a panic over this. If you have any bright ideas about what he could do, please do go over to his blog and let him know.

PPS Below is a version of the report card which hopefully those of you who see a big blank higher up in this post can read.

Human Grandad remembered me!

2011-08-23T06:44:00.002+01:00

Well of course, I hear you saying. A distinctive little chappie like me. Why wouldn't he?

Let me explain.

My bloggie pals may have noticed that I wasn't much in contact last week. You see I was s'posed to be going down to Nottingham with Gail to visit her parents. I would have been the star attraction, as you will already have realised. But sadly this time it wasn't be be - something about a favourite aunt's funeral in Sussex and it all getting too complicated. So anyway, I had to stay behind in Aberdeen.

Now I am sorry to have to tell you that human Grandad's memory is not so good as it once was. He finds it especially hard to recall names of places and people. And he gets rather confused about things in general these days.

But guess what! Gail came home last night and she told me that almost the first thing human Grandad said when he saw her was "How's Bertie?" And later, more than once, "I do hope Bertie is OK", and then, when they were setting off for a short walk down to the River Trent, "what a pity Bertie's not here to come with us". He only once said "Hamish' not 'Bertie'.

It will be human Grandad's 90th birthday in November. Gail has promised me that, absolutely come what may, I will go down to see him then, if not before. Oh I do hope so. I know he's a bit unhappy at the moment, anxious 'cos he's aware his brain doesn't work as well as it used to. I'm sure I would cheer him up.

Haar haar - not funny...

2011-08-21T09:34:00.000+01:00

Gail and I have been debating the merits of a well known aspect of summer weather in Aberdeen.

I guess if you want to make something sound better than it is you give it a fancy name. You know, like bin men being environmental hygiene operatives....

So people in the east of Scotland have a special word for coastal fog. The call it 'haar'.

We had a bad dose of haar when we took our visitors to Dunnottar Castle last week.

Gail was going on about it all being so atmospheric, the ruined grey stone buildings looming in the swirling mists.

But I think you can tell that the boys weren't too impressed.

And small wonder. You might remember I went there as a young pup with Gail's friend Helen. On a sunny day.

And Hamish too enjoyed fine weather for his visit. (Click here for his full report).

But talking of mists, oh deary me, Gail is getting all misty eyed looking at those pictures of Hamish. I'd better stop right now, and go and give her a lick and a cuddle.

"Ickle wickle puppy next door!"

2011-08-17T06:16:00.008+01:00

I mentioned a while back that my next door neighbours Paul and Jan were planning to acquire a Briard puppy.

What is it about the youngest members of my species that make humans, even the most down to earth and rational ones (yes I am thinking of Gail) go pathetically gooey and start spouting embarrassing baby talk?

OK I admit that I have been excited too, in a manly and not-at-all-sentimental fashion you understand.

Well the new pup arrived on Sunday evening. Paul and Jan picked her up and drove her all the way back from somewhere near Nottingham. I have not been allowed to meet her yet, but I know that her name is Ruby, and she is bound to be pretty 'cos Gail insists that all the most beautiful girls come from Nottingham....

Although that last 'fact' may be unreliable.

(Did I ever mention that Gail spent the first eighteen years of her life in Nottingham?)

PS Just caught a glimpse of a bundle of black fluff through next door's front window. She's not 'ickle wickle' at all in fact she's already almost as big as me. At only nine weeks. Eeeeek!

The consolation of philosophy

2011-08-13T17:00:00.002+01:00

You would think from this photo that Gail's friend Michael and I were getting along quite companionably by the end of his visit.

Well, "up to a point, Lord Copper". Or at least, we co-existed peacefully provided the following conditions were met:

We were outdoors
Michael was wearing long trousers and boots
There was no food in the vicinity
I had already walked ten miles and was a wee bit tired

But sadly, I have to say (British understatement here) I do not think that this particular human being, fine gentleman though he is, Gail assures me, in all other respects, will ever be persuaded of the joys of dog ownership.

It is of course hard not to take this personally. But I shall try to be philosophical about the matter.

I am thinking how lucky I am to live with someone who tolerates my occasional naughtiness, and makes allowances for certain facts about my breed that have long been recognised:

"Fox-terriers are born with about four times as much original sin in them as other dogs." ~Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat

No riots here (and Michael is forgiven)

2011-08-10T23:06:00.028+01:00

Well I know that those of you who aren't into hillwalking might be getting bored of yet more pictures of me bouncing and skipping around in the Scottish Highlands, but I want to show you that not all parts of the UK are as troubled as recent news reports may have led you to believe.

Plus, I want to boast a little.

On Tuesday this week, I bagged my second Munro! Lochnagar this time, a whopping 3789 ft above sea level.

There were seven of us on the expedition all told. Me, Gail, her friend Michael, his grandsons George and Albert, neighbour Neil and his flat-coated retriever Jake.

It is thanks to Neil that I was able to travel out to the start of the walk (a ninety minute drive) in a separate car from Michael...

At twelve whole miles, it was my longest walk to date, and also my highest climb.

Here we all are setting off. Lochnagar is the peak you can see faintly in the distance (top left).

And here we are, half way up. Can you spot me, leading the way? You may have to biggify the picture.

I wanted to rush right to the top, but every now and then Gail made me stop to pose in front of what she thought was a scenic view. As if I am not scenery enough!

For some reason everyone kept shouting at me: "BERTIE KEEP AWAY FROM THE CLIFFS!"

Do you like this picture of Gail and me at the summit?

Guess what? Michael took the photo (and some of the others in this post). Yes, it turns out he isn't so bad after all.

I will admit, that right at the very top there, I was a little scared, which is why Gail is giving me a cuddle. But I don't want anyone to go away with the impression that I was carried all the way up. That absolutely was not the case at all.

On this fine walk, Gail even remembered to bring me things to eat and chew. Although of course, her own sandwich box smelled so much more interesting than any of the stuff I was given.

Jake and I were not the only dogs to conquer Lochnagar that day. Meet, Fergus, a friendly Keeshond.

After lunch, we set off back down by a different route.

So pretty. The landscape I mean. Oh, and me too, if you insist.

Yes and didn't us youngsters all do brilliantly?

It was George and Albert's first ever Munro, so HUGE CONGRATS to them!

And finally, I would like to point out that, at the end of the walk, besides Loch Muick, there were swarms of midges that were definitely more irritating than me...

"More irritating than the midges"

2011-08-06T09:54:00.002+01:00

Yes. I know you won't believe it, but that's how Gail's friend Michael described me last night.

You will want to hear my side of the story, I'm sure.

You know how exciting it is when you have visitors. This week Michael and his two grandsons are here in Aberdeen for a wee holiday. I was instantly attracted to Michael. He's one of those humans who insists on wearing shorts and sandals all the time in the summer, even in Scotland! It's rare I get the opportunity to lick so much exposed human flesh. Irresistible.

Surely, he should find it flattering that I pay him so much attention? But apparently not.

And worse.

We all went out for a hillwalk yesterday.

Once we escaped the midges in the trees at the bottom, we were having a fantastic time. Well at least until we reached the summit.

Michael and the boys climbed up the rocks to the very top to eat their lunch.

And Gail totally refused to lift me up the big rock to join them

It seems that Michael and the boys are too selfish to share their picnic.

I can tell you, when we came to some more rocks, Michael was VERY LUCKY I did not push him off....

And bearing in mind what he said about me and midges later, I wish I had!

(Gail says I should be grateful to be taken on such interesting outings, and need to learn that not all humans are fond of having their legs licked and their sandwiches nicked. But that can't be right, surely?)

A visit to the Queen's Well

2011-08-03T06:13:00.003+01:00

You just take a sip of spring water in the middle of nowhere and someone rushes along and builds a memorial to commemorate the occasion.

Well that's what happened to Queen Victoria when she ventured up Glen Mark, at the head of Glen Esk, in 1861.

Last week, approximately one hundred and fifty years later, I followed in her footsteps, along with Gail and her friends Kate and Henry.

This is the 'Queen's Well'. Quite an impressive little structure isn't it?

But to be frank, the water looked slimey, so we wandered further up the glen...

...in search of the perfect picnic spot.

I think we found it - don't you?

So Gail, when are they going to come along a build a memorial so that future generations know that I lunched right here?

I wonder if my friend Wilf is aware that the whole area is called the Glens of Angus?

(And I'm telling you, you can't go anywhere in this part of Scotland without finding some sign saying that Queen Victoria got here first. It's a wonder she ever had time to be monarch. Well I guess if you reign for sixty years you get bored of hanging around sat on the throne in Buckingham Palace with some heavy bit of metal on your head...)

PS from Gail: history buffs please be tolerant with Bertie and remember science is his speciality.

Gail shows me her holiday snaps

2011-07-31T07:03:00.004+01:00

So Gail asked me if I would like to see some photos from her Newfoundland holiday.

To be honest, I was in two minds. I mean, why not rub it in Gail, that you were over the other side of the Pond, gallivanting with your friends, while I was stuck in ~~prison~~ 'my special vacation residence'.

Then she told me that she saw some statues of dogs, and I decided I was at least a teeny bit interested after all.

But first I was anxious to find out more about her travel companions, Marse, David and Jody, and most relieved to learn that they are all dog owners too, so must be a good influence.

Marse, pictured below, lives in Tacoma, Washington State with Liddy, a part-corgi part-Tibetan spaniel, and Boo, a border collie who, as a tiny puppy, was rescued from a locked mail box by Marse and her Cuban sister-in-law (hence Boo, from buzón, Spanish for mail box).

Marse in the cloud on top of Gros Morne

And David (Marse's youngest brother) and his wife Jody share their life in Austin Texas with a mellow Australian Shepherd, Jessy.

David and Jody by Bakers Brook Waterfall

I can see from the pictures that there were lots of interesting places in Newfoundland where Liddy, Boo, Jessy and I could have thoroughly enjoyed exploring, had we not all been left at home. Or in our 'special vacation residences'.

I would not have minded at all that the ground was so swampy the trails through the forest were mostly on boardwalks.

The houses in St Johns looked so colourful on the outside

And dog-friendly, surely, on the inside.

It would also have been nice to have met all Marse and David's relatives (their mother came from Newfoundland). Here are Aunt Frieda and Uncle Dan in Corner Brook.

Aunt Frieda won this year's local downhill ski race (over eighties category) and is president of the Scottish Country Dancing Club!

Oh and if only I had been there to appreciate Gail's lecture on the Table Lands Ophiolite Zone, where the serpentinised peridotite rock from the earth's mantle is exposed at the surface. It is not clear from the photo that Gail's American friends were all that enraptured by this rare geological occurrence.

I learn that in Newfoundland you are never far from water (which I, as a terrier, have mixed feelings about.)

You are never far from a moose either.

Gail says it wasn't like 'The Shipping News' after all. Apart from the fact that the local radio station did spend a lot of time talking about car wrecks...

Finally friends, can you help me with this one, please? Supposedly there is something amusing about the changing uses of this building on George Street, St Johns. Beats me though. Perhaps if you biggify it you will be able to tell me the joke?

Creature of habit

2011-07-28T06:00:00.010+01:00

After a stay in the 'special vacation residence' it's so nice to be home, and back to the familiar daily routine.

An early morning run in the park, greet my pals, then stop by the paper shop on the way home to pick up the Guardian. (We are proud to be Guardian readers in this household, where a boycott of all Murdoch-owned media has been in operation for decades.) A quick post-walk grooming session, accompanied by a crunchy treat to keep teeth busy and away from the brush.... Curl up in favourite armchair and watch Gail fire up the computer and focus on her work. Occasionally remind her of my presence by jumping up and snatching a pen or a tissue off her desk.

Mid-morning coffee for Gail and playtime for me.

(See my new toy, a Newfoundland dog stuffie. Friends you were right, Gail is not so mean after all.)

A lunchtime romp in the garden and a noisy conversation across the wall with next door neighbour, springer spaniel Molly.

Later on, another, longer walk, maybe by the river, along the old railway line, into town, or, on a good day, a short drive in the car to a nearby wood.

Then it's dinner time. Kibble and perhaps another treat. A cuddle from lodger Marie-Thérèse if she's in.

A five minute pre-bedtime trot round the block, then down for the night on comfy kitchen cushion, with hot-water bottle (yes, even in summer) and another wee treat.

Then sweet dreams 'til morning.

What kind of a present is THAT!

2011-07-25T10:35:00.002+01:00

So Gail goes all the way to Newfoundland and this is my reward...

"Well Bertie", she says, "you seem so fond of eating sheep droppings, I thought Puffin Poop would be just the perfect thing for you."

Friends, I've been missing you all, and am so looking forward to catching up with your news.

The Shipping News

2011-07-13T06:14:00.021+01:00

In the normal course of things, I would be in quite a huff about having to announce that my computer help is jetting off on holiday very shortly, and I am being consigned to ~~prison~~ "my special vacation residence", so will be out of contact for a week or two.

However, I have been perusing a novel set in the land where Gail is meeting up with her American friends, and I am now not sure that I am the one that you should all be feeling sorry for.

Why ever do you think Gail might want to abandon me for ten days, when the rival attractions appear to be:

Squidburger and seal flipper pie
Fog and damp (as if she doesn't get enough of that in Scotland)
Winds so strong that houses are held down with cables*
Dirty and dingy (but expensive) motels
Gruesome boating accidents
Peculiar natives (not all friendly)
A local press concerned mainly with incest and car wrecks

Did I do something terribly bad?

PS In case you are still puzzled as to Gail's destination, here is another clue. She expects to be seeing lots of these!

*I have been reminded that our garden shed in Torridon is similarly anchored.

Burns the Harrier Jump Dog

2011-07-10T18:25:00.002+01:00

I have the solution for Britain's cash strapped armed forces!

Cutbacks in spending have compelled the RAF and Navy to decommission their fleet of Harrier 'jump jets'.

Well anyone can see that it's useful for the military to have at their disposal something that can spring vertically into the air from a standing start and attack.

Let me introduce you to 'Burns', an American rat terrier and fellow trainee at Deeside Dog Agility Club.

This alert little fellow, despite legs shorter than my own, can leap several times his own height with no run up at all! And although he has always been friendly to Gail and me, I can see that he has a fine set of gnashers, which could prove handy in combat mode.

Now I am no economist, but I am pretty sure that a Burns would be cheaper to run than a Harrier jet.

Just a suggestion Mr Cameron, to save a few £££££s and keep the country safe ...

An operatic tragedy!

2011-07-07T06:29:00.019+01:00

There was all sorts of commotion in Duthie Park on Monday morning, with my normal walking route barricaded off, can you believe?

Gail explained that they were preparing for a big outdoor event that evening, a live relay of 'Madam Butterfly' from the Covent Garden Opera House in London, sponsored by BP.

Here is the tent where all the BP bigwigs would get to sit. (Only the most extreme kind of optimist trusts Aberdeen's weather..)

Well I can tell you, this was most exciting. I could barely contain myself. I snuck off to a quiet corner of the park, the wildflower patch, and practiced my arias. I mean, surely, everyone would welcome a dog that could sing along so lustily.

Just imagine my disappointment when Gail announced at about seven o'clock that she was going off to the park with the neighbours, equipped with wine, snacks, and a warm fleece, while I would be staying a home, alone...

Disappointment turned to outrage when Gail came back later in the evening, radiating enthusiasm, telling me that, not only had everyone had a splendid time, the weather stayed fine, the music was gorgeous etc. etc, but also, there'd been several dogs present, who were well behaved and had not attempted to join in.

And her point was, exactly?

"Why the long face, Bertie?"

2011-07-04T06:23:00.020+01:00

I hear this question too often. I think it is supposed to be some sort of a joke.

Like the way people will look at me and say "oh I used to have one of those, with wheels on"....

Of course, regular readers will realise that the 'long face' thing merely pertains to the shape of my head. That I am the happiest, bounciest little chappie you could hope to meet should be clear from these photos from Sunday's outing to Millstone Hill and Paradise Wood, where it was so nice and sunny I even ventured into the river Don for a wee paddle, voluntarily...

I kept my back dry and my paws on terra firma, mind.

Oh and Happy 4th July to all my American friends!

"He's a fantastic little dog"

2011-07-01T06:15:00.004+01:00

I have been most remiss in not keeping you up to date with news of my training activities.

You might remember that I attended an agility class earlier in the year. It was such good fun, the highlight of my week in fact, but we had to miss loads and loads of sessions 'cos the time - Saturday at noon - was apparently inconvenient, and after a few weeks Gail withdrew me from the class. She insists it had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the chap who led the sessions had such a strong NE Scotland accent that she only caught one word in three of what he was saying. Absolutely not at all.....

So anyway, after my stellar performance at the Feis Alligin agility demo, Gail finally got around to contacting another group, Deeside Dog Agility Club, who meet on Tuesday nights in a field just couple of miles away from my Aberdeen home. And, guess what? I have been accepted on to their training programme!

I can't tell you how excited I am.

Gail is pretty excited too, as this time she has no problem understanding the trainer. He was super enthusiastic and encouraging, and said (of me) at the end of the second session, earlier this week:

"He's a fantastic little dog".

Here I am, at home the morning after, basking in all the acclaim.

'Trainspotting' or 'Pride and Prejudice'?

2011-06-27T07:15:00.006+01:00

You can't imagine how pleased I've been this week, at last to see Gail with some worthwhile reading material.

Her new book is called 'Diary of a Dog-Walker'. It's by Edward Stourton - journalist, BBC broadcaster and owner of Kudu, a handsome and endearing Springer spaniel.

Mr Stourton is a literary kind of a chap, as you can tell from the following extract:

".... dog walking becomes like reading a novel, or watching a play ..... The novel the Dog and I enjoy in Battersea Park is at the Jane Austen end of the market ..... Here, at home in his local park [Clapham Common] he has a south London life that is more Trainspotting than Pride and Prejudice ..."

You will understand the Pride and Prejudice reference when you read that:

"... I was once approached in [Battersea] Park with an unsolicited marriage proposal, conditional, of course, on a full inspection of his pedigree (the lady in question, with a home off the King's Road and a weekend shooting habit, could not have been a more suitable bride, but sadly the pedigrees revealed that his father was her grandfather). "

Well all this set me wondering, and I asked Gail which book or film she feels we enter when out for our morning trot around our local park.

She thought about it a bit, and said did I know that Duthie Park is featured on the first page of an Ian Rankin crime novel, 'Black and Blue', and is the scene of a gruesome murder? But then she thought some more and said that in reality everyone we meet in the park is friendly and will stop for a chat, and we see the same cast of characters every morning, and she prefers to think of our time there as an urban version of the gentler Scotland of 'Dr Finlay's Casebook'.

I would love to know whether any of my friends feel they are taking part in a novel or play or movie on their daily outings, and if so, which one would it be?

Experimental results and a confidence crisis

2011-06-23T16:00:00.016+01:00

To: Frankie Furter, Mayor of Blogville

Dear Frankie,

Oh dear, oh dear, oh deary deary me.

I felt so honoured to be asked by you, my esteemed friend, to put on a science demonstration at the Blogville Picnic in the Bark.

It seemed such a good idea at the time. A series of water-related scientific experiments, especially designed to be educational, enjoyable and canine-relevant.

Now I am beginning to doubt my scientific vocation.

Perhaps I should go back to doing just mainstream dog stuff. You know. Chewing toys. Sniffing. Enjoying ear scritchies and tummy tickles. Licking my private parts. Bouncing around.

About last Saturday's experiments. I have been poring over the results all week, desperately trying to make sense of the data.

I have failed. Miserably.

The first experiment looked the most promising. I had thirteen willing participants, Dex and Lou, Dexter, Pip, Jazzi, Sarge, Asta, Shawnee, Daisy, Kendra and Bella, Ludo, and Jed. I took into account everyone's useful suggestions and devised a cunning plan to allow for differences in size, coat type, grooming regime, and degree to which the Mums and Dads had past histories of noisy aversion to cold water. I had my stopwatch and my microphone at the ready. There was much shaking of wet coats and squealing of Mums and Dads.

I know. It was foolish of me to stand right by the pond while taking the measurements. The tsunami created when Dexter and Jed leapt in together swept me off my paws, and I fear that my electronic recording instruments did not survive the immersion...

As for the second experiment. It soon became clear from all the comments that my past attempts to educate the dog-blogging community into the nature of the scientific process have been falling on deaf ears (of all shapes and sizes).

I had hoped that my students would by now be able to distinguish between a serious scientific experiment and a race! How could so many of them fail to appreciate that a test of the hypothesis that dogs with longer legs can swim faster is not a swimming competition? And that winning is not the point. Yes I'm looking at you especially, Tessa. Now I don't know which dog it was that decided to 'cheat' by handing out large plates of pilfered tube steaks and bratwurst to some of the participants immediately before the experiment, and slipping collars weighted with lead onto others, all I can say for certain is that I am desperately disappointed in each and every one of those involved. Pip, Frankie, Sarge, Asta, Puddles and Jed, did you really mean for it to be one big fiasco?

Then there was the third experiment Frankie. Or rather there wasn't. WHERE WERE ALL THE VOLUNTEERS? MANGO? I can only conclude that, to a man, the purportedly 'all male' doggies feared looking 'small' after a fifteen minute dip in the 10ºC water.

And you know what? Gail has been no help at all. When I told her that none of my friends had offered to have their testicles photographed, strictly in the cause of science, was she sympathetic? She was not.

"Well Bertie," she said, "I think you should do as Toby suggested, and volunteer yourself. That's what a really dedicated scientist would do. Did you know that when Sir Isaac Newton was conducting experiments into the nature of light, he poked a darning needle into his own eye socket to test the theory that colour perception is caused by pressure on the eyeball?"

As you can imagine, I explained to Gail very patiently that since I was conducting the experiments myself I could not possibly take part, and while I appreciated her offer of help I didn't think it at all appropriate that she should take 'before' and 'after' photographs of me...

But instead of saying "yes Bertie, you're right, of course, as always," Gail just gave me a LOOK.

Well that was the final straw.

I am so downhearted and discouraged. All that hard work, and for nothing.

Maybe I should hand back my badge of office?

Your most despondent Scientific Advisor,
Bertie Boffin (not feeling very bouncy today).

What's the big deal? (East Coast Trains ROCK!)

2011-06-21T09:12:00.022+01:00

Well we arrived back in Aberdeen last night from the trip to Granny and Grandad, and Gail was acting all strange and euphoric. Anyone would think she was mightily relieved about something. It was all "Oh Bertie you are so wonderful, come here and let me give you another cuddle, I can't believe you were so well-behaved, let's go to the butchers and buy you a special treat - would you prefer liver, lambs kidney, venison, steak or their special Cumberland sausage?"

What was the big deal? Didn't she think I could cope with a train journey of over six hours? (That's two and three quarter hours Aberdeen to Edinburgh, then three and a half hours Edinburgh to Newark North Gate).

Let me tell you again - I had an absolutely splendid time all round. I simply must show you some more photos.

I had a great romp beside the River Trent, near Granny and Grandad's house

Then it was time to head back north on the East Coast train. We sped through the English countryside

I was having such fun as we passed through Durham station

Gail and I both enjoyed the view of Durham Cathedral

Although I was worried that the drinks trolley hadn't appeared..

Ah yes, here it is. Phew.

We had a wee break in Edinburgh, where we changed trains

I had time to inspect the gardens

And observe the street life

Back on the train I just couldn't stop smiling

Sadly we didn't get a photo of the lovely man in the green sweater, who nearly burst into tears when I walked past on my way to the buffet car on yesterday's journey. He said I was the spit of a foxy he had who'd died a few weeks ago. He just wanted to stroke me, ever so tenderly. Gail later said, rather cynically I thought, no foreigner travelling to Edinburgh on that particular train carriage would have disembarked thinking that Englishmen suppress their emotions too much...

Anyway, on another matter. What is happening about the report on my Blogville Picnic water-related science experiments, I hear you asking. Well, I have to admit that the data have presented particular and unique challenges in interpretation and I still have some problems to resolve with the peer review committee. All will be ready for publication in a few days time, I am sure....

PS Gail wants to know if this post will earn us a free travel voucher...

Quick update - train, grandparents, science experiments

2011-06-19T02:00:00.017+01:00

Wow I had such an incredibly great time on the train on Thursday! I haven't time to tell you all about it just now as I'm busy entertaining human Granny and Granddad. But I thought I'd just show you a couple of photos.

The ticket collector was especially friendly, although Gail says that perhaps the woman in the pink shirt is a teeny bit jealous of all the attention I'm getting...

Oh and about my Blogville Picnic in the Bark water-related science experiments (see previous post). Just to make it clear that I'll be reporting on the results after I get back home to Aberdeen - Tuesday at the earliest. Meanwhile, please do keep all your excellent comments and suggestions coming in!

Bertie Boffin at the Blogville Picnic

2011-06-17T06:30:00.003+01:00

Welcome welcome welcome!

I hope you are enjoying the Blogville Picnic and I am so pleased that you have made it over to my Science Corner. As you know, I take my role as Scientific Advisor to Blogville most seriously...

This weekend, here by the pond, and with your help, I am going to conduct a series of water-related science experiments. My aim is to demonstrate to you the scientific process of using experiments to test theories.

We are going to conduct three experiments, each investigating a different hypothesis.

HYPOTHESIS 1: The thicker the dog's coat, the more water it holds.

Method: The dog jumps in the water and straight out again. It then shakes itself all over its human. We record the breed of dog and measure the volume and duration of its owner's squeals, these parameters can be used as an indirect indicator of the amount of water soaked up and then released by the dog.

HYPOTHESIS 2: The longer a dog's legs, the faster it can swim.

Method: We assemble a sample of dogs of widely differing heights, from chihuahua to greyhound, and stand them at one end of the pond, lined up from shortest to tallest. Gail then runs to the other side of the pond with a handful of tasty treats, which she waves invitingly as she calls them across, and records the time each dog takes to swim the 25m distance.

HYPOTHESIS 3: As with human males, certain 'private' parts of the male dog anatomy shrink in size when exposed to cold water.

Method: We find a cohort of 'intact and proud of it' male dogs, preferably ones that are nicely warmed up, perhaps after chasing the lady dogs around the picnic site. We carefully photograph their undersides. We then stand them in the pond for 15 minutes (and remember that this corner of the picnic is taking place in Scotland and the water temperature is at most 50ºF/10ºC). We take another photo when they step out. We compare the dimensions 'before' and 'after' in a most rigorous, objective and scientific manner.....

Got all that?

Now then, I would like you to comment critically on the possible flaws in the experimental designs (i.e. tell me what might possibly go wrong), maybe suggest ways in which the research could be improved, and predict - giving reasons - what you think the results should be.

I would also like you to tell me which experiment(s) you wish take part in. Feel free to volunteer your friends too!

The experiments will be conducted on Saturday afternoon and I will be compiling a full analysis of the results, to be presented in a separate post shortly after the picnic is over.

Thanks for stopping by!

PS In a parallel universe, Gail and I arrived safe and well at human Granny and Grandad's, and I was awarded a stellar 9 out of 10 for my behaviour on the train yesterday. More on this next week when we are back in Aberdeen ...

Come with me for a walk to Dracula's Castle

2011-06-13T11:30:00.025+01:00

Weekday blues? Stuck in at home while the humans are busy working?

Why not join me on a virtual walk along the Scottish coast?

You're coming then? Brilliant! Let's get going!

We start off in a tiny wee fishing village, Whinnyfold, 20 miles north of Aberdeen.

We walk north along the cliffs, admiring the blue seas and the graceful arc of Cruden Bay in the distance.

(You may, like me, have to be on a lead for this stretch, along a narrow and uneven path with steep drops on one side and eminently chase-able sheep on the other.)

Eventually we reach the beach, and can run free, sniff around the rock pools and sip the salty water.

If you biggify this picture you can see the outline of a castle in the top left. That's where we're headed.

But first you may wish to stop a while and reflect, and watch the tide go out.

We are lucky that for once there is almost no wind, so no sand blowing in our eyes.

It seems we might even have the beach to ourselves today.

And also the path up to the spooky ruins of Slains Castle. (Bram Stoker stayed here; they say it's where he found inspiration for the Dracula story.)

We can walk right up to the castle and explore. It's great fun - so many fascinating nooks and crannies to investigate. (The buildings are actually fenced off for safety reasons, but there's a hole in the fence so we can slip straight through!) If I had a human who would remember to charge her camera battery once in a while, then I would be able to show you the ruins close up, but I'm afraid you'll just have to imagine it today, or perhaps follow this link.

P.S. I am off on my big train journey to visit human Granny and Granddad on Thursday. But by ~~some miracle~~ the wonders of modern science and technology, I am also participating in the Blogville picnic next weekend. You will find me by the pond, where I will be conducting a series of fun science experiments with a water-related theme. If you want to participate in these experiments (and I am sure you will!) please stop by my blog next Friday or Saturday.

Keeping things in proportion

2011-06-12T06:49:00.000+01:00

So I have been packing for my big train journey down to visit human Granny and Granddad in Nottingham next week. This is what I am planning to take:

And this is what Gail ~~has room for~~ is taking.

Humans don't need much stuff, do they?

Oh no! Wait a minute Gail! You'd better not forget the passport.

What's that? We don't have to have a passport for England? Well what about the return trip? Now are you really really sure Mr Salmond is going to let us back in?

Train trial

2011-06-09T05:19:00.005+01:00

There are no photos today because events that I am reporting were deemed 'too stressful' for the camera operator...

It seems that my predecessor Hamish the Westie used to travel quite often by railway, and Gail has decided that it would be useful if I could accompany her on train journeys too.

She has this idea that it is more relaxing than driving, when long distances are involved (like visiting Granny and Granddad, 400 miles away).

I think that now, following a trend that will be familiar to those who take an interest British politics, this supposedly brilliant idea is 'under review'.

Last weekend I was taken for a 'training ride', to Huntly. By Scotrail it's an hour from Aberdeen.

Really I think I was most well-behaved.

I didn't bark - well, scarcely at all. I didn't 'mark' anyone's luggage, either on or off the train. Nobody's crisps were stolen. (OK, I admit I tried. Repeatedly. I mean some passengers are virtually inviting you to sample their lunch, rustling their crinkly food bags and leaving tasty smelling morsels within WFT reach on the table and so forth.) No-one got bitten. (I was just curious about what the ticket collector's trousers would feel like in my mouth, that's all.) I kept Gail entertained by constantly bouncing on and off her lap. (So much more interesting for her than the big fat book she was trying to read. You can tell that 'cos after a while she sighed - fondly, I'm quite sure - and put the book back in her bag.)

In Huntly we visited an ruined castle, historic seat of the Gordon clan, and had an agreeable walk around a wood and along the river Deveron.

I can't imagine why, when Gail's friend Margaret asked how it all went, Gail rated my behaviour a mere five out ten. And then said something about perhaps asking the vet for a sedative before we head down to Nottingham next week...

The natural selection approach to gardening

2011-06-06T06:32:00.000+01:00

There is a reason why this blog features pictures of our back garden only rarely.

Gail claims that it is not that she is lazy, oh no, not at all. Rather that, when she has free time and the weather is nice, she prefers to take me out for a nice long walk in the country. And that when the weather is, as is so often the case in these parts, not nice, then who wants to be out in the garden anyway?

Heaven knows I try to encourage her by helping with the digging, but all to no avail.

Well anyway, this week, by some amazing fluke, the 'survival of the fittest' approach to horticulture resulted in several different flowers, some even quite vibrant, being in bloom at the same time. AND WE HAD TWO CONSECUTIVE DAYS OF BRIGHT WARM SUNSHINE.

And at my insistence, this unique event was recorded on camera. Please do spare a moment to savour this tour of our garden; new plant species will have had time to evolve by the next chance I get to show you round...

Gales and Gails

2011-06-03T06:08:00.002+01:00

Yes, I am aware that in this blog I write quite a lot about two things that sound the same but are really rather different. And that some of you (especially those for whom spelling is not a strong point) might be in danger of becoming confused.

Gales and Gails.

Let me attempt to clarify.

Gales: these are very strong winds, and we have a lot of them in Scotland, especially on the tops of hills and by the sea. Gales occur more frequently in Scotland than down south in England. I tend to become extra specially bouncy when a gale is blowing. When I was a wee pup I found them scary, but now I just think of them as a good excuse to pretend I can't hear when I am being recalled. Gales can cause lots of damage, as I showed you last month when a car was crushed by a tree on our street during a gale. The shipping forecast on BBC Radio 4 issues 'gale warnings' for the sea areas around the British Isles - see map above. (Many humans who never go near a boat love listening to the soothing repetitive rhythms of the shipping forecast, a gentle reminder of our country's maritime heritage). One thing I like about gales is that they deter Gails from spending too much time on their bicycles.

Gails: these are also, I believe, more common in Scotland than England. As you know, I live with one. A different Gail lives a few doors up the street from us; she known in this household as 'other Gail'. I tend to be excitable in the presence of Gails as well as gales, especially if I am about to be taken for a walk by one, or offered a treat. Yes, and, come to think about it, you can quite often find a Gail (mine, that is) on top of a hill or by the sea. Gails can also sometimes be scary, like when they have just found that you have chewed up their cashmere sweater. I am reliably informed that when my Gail was a little girl, and got in a bad temper, her brother Max would go round saying "warning, warning, Gail force 10 today!" (Gail certainly never enjoyed listening to this particular forecast....) My Gail can also blow very hard - she tells me she gets way high scores when she does those lung function tests at the doctors. Oh and there are loads of things I like about Gails.

To sum up then, if you live in Scotland, Gails and Gales are something you just have to get used to, and might as well learn to enjoy!

Hope that's all clear now.

SUBJECT	TRAINER'S COMMENT	DOG'S COMMENT
Attention levels	Bertie must learn that barking at the horses in the adjacent field is not the point of the exercise.	I like attention. Why do all the other dogs get more attention than me? Especially that Maddy, just ‘cos she’s so hopeless at the ‘wait’ bit.
Speed over obstacles	Bertie could move faster if he put his mind to it, as he shows when chasing fellow trainee Maddy.	Look, if you go quickly then your turn is over too soon and that’s no fun.
Accuracy over obstacles	So long as he actually tackles the jumps, rather than dashing across the field to try and join the more advanced dogs, Bertie usually does well.	“Does well”? Talk about faint praise. I’m brilliant. Have I ever knocked down a jump? Ever? No? I rest my case. Oh and, what do you mean "more advanced"?
General behaviour	Bertie is not the worst behaved of the young dogs we have come across, but his tendency to go AWOL half way round the circuit needs attention.	Hey give me a break. Remember that I am a terrier, and unlike all those swotty collies, naughtiness is my birthright.
Areas for improvement	Bertie is far too fond of the sound of his own voice. We are less so.	I have noticed that some of the other dogs have treats that smell much better than the ones Gail brings for me.
Issues with handler	For someone who claims to have a PhD, Gail’s ability to remember the order of the obstacles seems rather poor.	See comment above. Plus, why are you always so ready to praise the other dogs Gail, yet so critical of me?