Patiently waiting - and a message of hope

On Saturday morning, Gail and I met our friends M and J in Duthie Park. Dogs are not allowed in the park café and so I was left outside and told to wait patiently and quietly. 

Which I did, because I am a Good Boy. Through the window I could see Gail and her friends deep in conversation over their coffee and scones (or in Gail's case a croissant, score 7/10). 

You would never guess this from the pictures you've seen of M and J, and all you've heard about their intrepid exploits, but they are both quite a bit older even than Gail. The three humans were rather a long time in the café and later Gail explained that M, who is originally from Germany, had been talking of her experiences at the close of WW2 and how the appalling news from Ukraine had this week been prompting flashbacks. 

M and her Austrian mother had spent most of the war sheltering at her grandparents' remote mountain farm in Austria. As the Red Army approached, and tales of atrocities inflicted on the defeated civilian population spread, nine year old M and her mother fled west through an area of active conflict, eventually reaching the relatively safety of the American controlled part of southern Germany. There were no German men of military age to be seen. It was all women, children and old folk left to fend for themselves. 

This particular story has a happy ending as M saw peace return to her homeland. Later she moved to Scotland, enjoyed a fulfilling career lecturing at the University of Aberdeen, met and married a nice Scottish lecturer, J, and raised a lovely, talented daughter. Now there are two fine grandsons too. And M and J still have loads of energy for accompanying Gail and me on our weekly walks. 

Gail and I hope against hope that all those traumatised women and children currently fleeing from the Russian onslaught in Ukraine will likewise live to see happier days. 

What, no logs?

Just because it's a dreary day, that doesn't mean one has to stay indoors does it?

Gail and I were thrilled to once again join our friends M and J for a walk on Sunday.  We went to the Forvie National Nature Reserve.

I did have one moment of panic, when Gail made me stop and pose for some photos and I feared we might lose sight of M and J. Past experience has taught me that it is important in particular to keep track of the pink jacket, one pocket of which often contains generously sized dog treats...

Oh. Gail is questioning my commitment to staying with our little group, noting how at one point in the walk I set off at pace down a different track in pursuit of a lone jogger. 

Obviously, I only did this in my capacity as Gail's personal trainer, making sure her teenage sprinting skills had not been totally forgotten*. 

I'm afraid we didn't manage to add to the 'M and J sitting on a log' series on this particular walk, as the Nature Reserve is by the sea and comprises dunes and coastal heathland, with only a few low shrubs scattered thereabouts.

 
But I can offer some pictures of the coastline, dramatic even in the dull February weather.

P.S.  For those of you who can access BBC iPlayer, the Forvie Nature Reserve, long a favourite place of ours, features in this episode of Michael Portillo's 'Great Coastal Railway Journeys'.

*Gail notes: Bertie still has a mind of his own, but as he is now completely deaf, shouting is pointless and the only way I can retrieve him is to give chase! 

My kind of a day

So our wee poodle guest Ella woke me up early on Christmas morning and wanted to know what we'd be doing that day. 

To be honest, I had no idea. But shortly after, when we were all up and about, I observed Gail filling the vacuum flask with coffee, tucking a few treats (dog and human) into her daypack along with her Bernie Sanders style mittens, and I whispered to Ella that I thought we might be going for a nice long walk and a picnic somewhere.

Soon we two dogs were bundled into the back of the car and were heading inland towards Aboyne. Ella, who has quite a good brain underneath all that adorable fluff, confided in me her worries that Gail had not packed enough food for the three of us, and this remained a concern until an hour later we arrived at the Glen Tanar car park.

There we found our friends M and J, and their friend K. To my great relief I saw that M had come equipped with all the makings of a feast, and these were being placed in the humans' various backpacks for, one presumed, later consumption. 

Suitably equipped, we set off up the glen, Ella a bit nervous at first but soon getting into the spirit of things. 

At -2ºC when we left the car park, it was slippery underfoot/paw, and chilly enough for me to be glad of my Nordic sweater. For brief moments the sun did peep over the sides of the valley. 

After a couple of miles we reached the picnic destination and the humans expressed relief that their favoured spot beneath the bridge had not already been taken. 

That this was a better class of picnic than the sort Gail usually puts together was evident from the moment M laid out a table cloth on the snow-covered stone bench.

I was tied to a nearby tree trunk and given a top quality chew while the humans consumed their turkey sandwiches, tasty nibbles, tiramisu and 1/4 can each of naturally chilled Prosecco. I thought it a bit unfair that Ella was allowed to roam free during the picnic, and wasn't too happy when Gail said "it's because she has better manners than you do Bertie". 

But then I remembered it is the season of goodwill. I decided to accept the situation and sat there quietly as the humans drank a toast to many more Merry Christmases (and I was given another treat...) 

All in all, it was my kind of a Christmas Day. And Gail's too, I believe.

Bertie takes a turn for the worse

Gail here:

It was a pleasant day on Sunday when Bertie and I met our friends M and J for a walk around the woods near Potarch Bridge. 

Over the past year I have noticed how Bertie's and M and J's walking speeds have converged, with my dear little pup slowing down and my senior friends showing increasing benefits of regular exercise plus determination.  

Bertie was particularly slow on Sunday, and appeared at times not quite 'all there' although he perked up nicely for a photo in the café where the humans enjoyed post-walk refreshments.

Come Monday, Bertie seems very much out of sorts. Unsteady on his feet, unwilling to climb the stairs, we manage a short walk by the harbour mouth and I let him take time to sniff around to his little heart's content.

He waits patiently while I watch a spectacular dolphin display (sadly too far offshore for me to catch on the phone).

Home in the evening, I carry Bertie upstairs to join me viewing the Tour de France highlights on TV. Bertie is as wobbly on his four paws as the cyclists were on their two wheels. 

Later he vomits profusely on my bed and has an 'accident' dampening the hall carpet. 

Tuesday, with Bertie no better, I call the vet. We have an appointment for this (i.e Wednesday) afternoon.

Any feelings of happiness at the imminent completion of building work on my Torridon cottage are tempered by sorrow, as I recognise that Bertie may not be around for long to keep me company there.

Life's ups and downs.

Pandemic pals

Today I want to tell you a bit about my friends M and J. (They are Gail's friends too, but this is my blog!)

You see me here patiently waiting for them on a walk last week, after M had stopped to take the photo below.

As you will have noticed, it was another rather dreary day in Scotland. (Oh how I wish last Thursday's post was not an April Fool joke - today we have snow again...) But although my friends are good bit older than Gail, they are not ones to be deterred by adverse weather. They also have more energy than most folk half their ages, and Gail tells me that in normal times M and J lead active and stimulating lives - enjoying visiting their daughter and grandsons in the Netherlands and other family and friends in Germany, going for sightseeing holidays in Italy and elsewhere, attending concerts, plays and exhibitions, improving foreign  language  skills etc. etc.  

With travel and so many other human activities on hold, have M and J sat indoors sulking? Far from it! They have been out and about exploring the nearby countryside, walking for a couple of hours or more, just about every morning of the pandemic. And to my great delight, roughly once a week (when Covid rules permit) Gail and I have joined them.

What fun these outings have been for a still lively wire fox terrier! And Gail and I wonder how many other humans at M's stage in life have become fitter and more adept at negotiating paths that are sometimes steep, rough, muddy, icy etc. over the past year?

I love it that we have investigated so many new footpaths and byways together, and I also love it when the humans sit down on a rock or log for 'elevenses', take out their flasks of coffee and snacks and, of course, a treat for me to chew on while they relax for a few minutes and set the world to rights.

Oh I do hope M and J will still find time for these walks when they are able to resume their busy lives. 

Who needs a GPS?

So here I am near the start of our Sunday walk with M and J. (Yes that's them on the path some way behind me; they're taking photos in which I don't feature, and so will obviously be of no interest to anyone...)

No doubt you want to know exactly where I am. 

I'll give you a few clues. 

The path is a disused railway line, and on one side we have the North Sea.

The geographers among you will recognise that it is low tide, and between the path and the sea is a 'wave cut platform' of rock.

(Gail says this particular clue will be of absolutely no help to anyone, but I contend it's always a mistake to underestimate one's readers). 

Anyway, looking inland we have fields and low hills (so clearly not the Highlands, duh!)

The walk begins and ends in a fishing village with a restaurant overlooking the harbour. By the way, I would like to point out it did not escape my notice how two handsome golden retrievers entered the restaurant with their owners, while I was left in the car when Gail, M and J went in to dine...

OK, I'm sure you've worked out where I am by now.

But just in case you're still struggling, here are some helpful signs... 

Wagging and waiting

Every morning for the past couple of months, Gail has been giving me a new pre-walk treat, a little brown tablet wrapped in grated cheese. I wait patiently while she prepares the treat, tail wagging in anticipation.

It tastes delicious and, gosh, ever since I've been getting these special goodies, I've been feeling quite the frisky young pup again. And Gail seems happier too. She claims she treasures every hour she spends with me, and this might be true up to a point, although I would note it did not stop her going out for a long bike ride with her friends on Saturday and leaving me home alone, all forlorn, for several hours...

However I am pleased to report that, after what I imagine was a sleepless night wracked with guilt* Gail took me out on Sunday to join her friends M and J, and we all enjoyed some quality time together, rambling around the sheltered lower reaches of Glen Tanar.

*Gail says: I think Bertie is referring here to what I experienced as eight solid hours of untroubled slumber.