Reconciliation

I know I’m a bit late with this, but did you watch the Queen’s Christmas Day message? 

No, me neither, but I gather the theme this year was ‘reconciliation’.

So being a loyal subject (and still, Your Maj, hoping for that invite to spend the weekend at Balmoral with the corgis...) I am going to tell you about my own personal efforts at reconciliation, which took place a few days ago, on New Year’s Eve and were, by and large, successful.

We were back in Scotland, but not at home in Aberdeen. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t quite sure where we were heading, as Gail drove up the A9 then through Inverness and several miles beyond.

I must say it all looked rather promising when I saw this sign through the car windscreen and Gail said, “Nearly there Bertie".

We finally arrived at an unfamiliar house, but the moment I set paw on the front doorstep I picked up an all too familiar scent.

Imagine my horror when who should come galloping down the drive but my nemesis, flat-coated retriever Jake. Yes, he who inflicted those horrid wounds on my shoulder last September.

Jake’s master Neil quickly grabbed him by the collar and I nervously edged past them and into the house.

It turned out we were staying the night and celebrating the New Year with our Aberdeen neighbours Neil and Yvonne at their Highland retreat in the woods near Kiltarlity.

I have to say I was feeling a little tense at first, and stayed close to Gail. I noticed that Neil was keeping his hand near Jake’s collar, which was reassuring.

As the evening progressed, the humans relaxed as they emptied a bottle of Prosecco, then a bottle of Merlot, and then, as midnight approached, the Glenmorangie appeared. Jake and I caught the increasingly mellow mood, and when Gail suggested Yvonne take a group photo I only growled a little at being made to stand closer to Jake than I would have preferred.

(I fear Gail is looking just a teeny wee bit squiffy here….)

Next morning, we all went for a walk in the woods, Jake and I both off the lead, without incident.

So, not exactly best buddies yet, but there was at least some sort of a rapprochement.

I need a better story...

Later today I am going to be travelling with Gail by train to Nottingham as we are visiting Human Granny for a few days (hooray). It is a long journey, and experience has taught me that during the trip I shall attract the attention of several admiring fellow passengers.

Although my wound is healing nicely, the scar on my shoulder is still noticeable and I fear it is inevitable that someone will ask about the injury.

Now please bear with me just a minute for what might seem like (but isn’t) a random digression.

Gail has a young Venezuelan colleague called Hugo. You will immediately recognise that Hugo and I have much in common when I tell you that he is notably good looking, smart as a whip, charming, generous in spirit and full of cheerful, friendly bounce.

And like me, Hugo this year sustained a painful injury in somewhat inglorious circumstances.

Since Hugo does not have a Gail to take him for energetic expeditions in the hills, he maintains his well honed physique by means of frequent and vigorous gym workouts. But a few months ago when lifting weights he felt something snap in his right arm, followed by excruciating pain, and an x-ray later confirmed that he had broken his humerus clean in two. Yes really. Ouch indeed.

Surgery was required to put Hugo back together again and as a result he now wears a rather impressive scar on his upper arm.

Having recovered both his arm movement and his sense of humour, Hugo recently asked his colleagues if they could think of a “better story” for him.  Just, you understand, in case a beautiful and solicitous young lady should approach him, say in a bar in Aberdeen, and ask him how he came by his scar.

Apparently Gail's workmates proposed a number of increasingly improbable scenarios, beginning with Hugo getting hurt while rescuing a damsel from the jaws of a killer shark in the River Dee.

I think you can see where this is going…

Like Hugo, I need a better story.

Please, my friends, any suggestions for ‘embellishments’ to my woeful tale of being set upon by a big but not normally aggressive dog, would be much appreciated!

Tough terrier squares up to a Highland 'Coo' in Torridon last weekend.

Bertie's injury: update from Gail

Thank you readers for your concern, well wishes and kind advice after Saturday's incident.

I took Bertie to the emergency vet this (Sunday) morning, and she noted the wound in his side was quite a deep one and suggested I leave him to be sedated and they would clean it up thoroughly and check him over.

Imagine my horror when later in the day the vet phoned back to tell me Bertie's injuries were rather worse than she'd initially thought. It seems Jake's teeth must have dug deep and dragged some of Bertie's skin and flesh inside, creating conditions for an infection, and a large cavity full of puss had already developed beneath his shoulder, which required a big incision to clear out. The vet also noted other signs of trauma on his neck.

The poor wee lad.

I finally went back to the vet's to pick him up this evening.

What a sorry sight.

We returned home armed with antibiotics and pain killers. Tomorrow I shall stay at home to keep an eye on him and make sure the wound drain does not clog up. We go back to the vet on Tuesday.

My arm, by the way is fine, just a bit sore and bruised but nothing compared to what Bertie is going through.

One way and another, it has been quite a week here in Aberdeen!

Traumatic end to my Saturday walk

Oh dear, oh dear, I do hope Gail will forgive me and understand I didn't mean it.

You know, I like my blog posts to be honest, and to give my readers a true picture of what's been going on in my life, but I can scarcely bear to write about this.

I feel so very very badly.

And it had been such a lovely walk, along the River Dee with neighbour Yvonne and her flat-coated retriever Jake. Jake and I are not exactly best pals, but we generally rub along together quite happily. And it was such a pretty afternoon, although you'll have to take my word for it as Gail forgot her camera.

In retrospect I'm wondering if Jake was envious 'cos I was allowed in the front of Yvonne's car with Gail while Jake was confined to the boot.

Anyway, it was all peace and goodwill until we arrived back in our street and got out of the car.

Really I don't know quite how it happened or what I did to make Jake so cross.

All I know is that Gail and Yvonne were standing in the street nattering on as usual, then all of a sudden Jake had me by the scruff of the neck and was shaking me quite hard. I shrieked and squealed and Gail tried to prize me from his jaws but he wouldn't let go and in my utter panic I bit her arm and then Yvonne managed to pull Jake away.

It happened so quickly.

Gail checked my neck for signs of injury, but found none.

She insisted that her arm was OK, only bleeding a wee bit, nothing that a good soaking of Dettol couldn't sort.

Later she noticed an open wound on my side, and out came the Dettol again.

Oh dear but I feel just terrible, and not because of my injury.

How could I have hurt my precious human? She is the world to me.

Back home, I made sure I stayed close by her all evening, giving her cuddles and letting her know that I was so very sorry.

I tried to lick her hurt arm better, but soon understood that this was not appropriate behaviour.

Lying beside her on the sofa, my legs started to tremble and I couldn't stop them, and Gail made a phone call.

Oh dear, I do hope she wasn't arranging for me to be adopted.

I didn't want to want to go out for my late evening comfort walk. I really didn't. I felt scared.

Sunday morning update from Gail: poor Bertie is still very out of sorts this morning, and his side is apparently sore, so we are off to the emergency vet clinic later today.