Meeting with Westie Puppy Rosie

The way Gail's been going on, anyone would think I have a reputation for behaving badly with tiny puppies…

"Er Bertie, you do have a reputation for behaving badly with the little pups. Remember how you bullied Daisy Dachshund at puppy class? And how you terrorised Bunty the Border terrier the first time she came round here when she was only three months old? As for the way you growled, really quite aggressively, at those two chihuahuas in the park the other day…."

Gail, please stop interrupting me when I am composing my blog post about my visit to your friend the Oil Man and his new Westie pup, nine week old Rosie.

Now as I was saying, it seems I have this reputation, so I want you to watch this video carefully (with the sound turned up) and count how many times words like "best behaviour", "good dog" and "impressed" are used with reference to myself. The voices are those of the Oil Man and Gail. Oh and cricket fans might pick up some background commentary from Test Match Special at the start.

For those readers who don't have time to watch a video, I have also posted some photos below. Although really, you should be rethinking your priorities in life shouldn't you, if you can't spare a mere ninety-five seconds to watch your favourite wire-haired fox terrier interacting with an indescribably cute Westie puppy?

It was such fun meeting Rosie. I do hope I see lots more of her in the future.

PS Gail, should we tell them about the emergency phone call from the Oil Man, half an hour before we were due there, asking if we had any newspaper?

Scotland, Guernsey, Sana'a or Dubai?

Oh it's been ages since I met up with my Westie friends Florrie and Lucy. Yes, I know, yet more girl friends, well what's a handsome wee chappie to do?

Last weekend Gail and her friend the Oil Man (the Westies' owner) finally got themselves organised so we all went out for a leisurely walk around Loch Kinnord, the pace dictated by Florrie's twelve year old hips, and we had a chance for a good chat.


Florrie and Lucy spent much of the last year or so on Guernsey* with the Oil Man's son and daughter-in-law. Florrie confided to me that she really was happy to be back in her homeland, she admitted she felt a bit depressed away from Scotland and had lost her enthusiasm for walks, despite all the Channel Island sunshine and pretty beaches. Happily, now she's back, she's regained some of her former zest for life, even to the extent of voluntarily wading into the Loch despite the thin films of ice evident on the more sheltered stretches of water.


Lucy, it seems, adapted better to life amongst the rich Guernsey tax exiles. Gail tells me that this is because Lucy is five years Florrie's junior, and one is more flexible when younger, in all sorts of ways. Well anyway, Lucy loyally claims also to be content to be home, as she knows the Oil Man is very fond of her, and if he's happy, she's happy.


Florrie and Lucy's absence was, as some readers might remember, prompted by the Oil Man being away working in the Middle East. He's been dividing his time between Dubai and Sana'a, Yemen, and I was of course curious to learn if these would be interesting and dog-friendly places to visit.

Well I don't think I'll manage to convince Gail to take me to Dubai any time soon. It seems the main attractions there are hot weather and shopping and she's not a big fan of either, and come to think of it, neither am I.

Sana'a sounds altogether more appealing. Did you know the old city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site? Look at this picture I just found in the internet.

Lots of fascinating places to sniff there, for sure. And at an altitude of 7500 ft, it has pleasantly cool climate too. OK so the terrorist threat means you have to go everywhere with heavily armed guards - on arrival at the airport they even escort you across the tarmac from the plane to the terminal it's so dangerous - but I don't see that should be a problem given my tank driving experiences...

Once again, Gail is not convinced. "Bertie, look at the beautiful, clean and safe environment we enjoy here in Scotland, especially attractive when bathed in soft winter sunlight isn't it? Why would you want to be anywhere else?" she says.

You know, on reflection, I'm inclined to agree with her.

Oh and if you're wondering why the 'Oil Man'...

*For readers from abroad, Guernsey is one of the Channel Islands, a small and wealthy archipelago belonging to the UK (albeit with a lower tax regime) but located closer to NW France.

Florrie and Lucy - out of my league?

Oh I am so excited, although also a little apprehensive.

Excited 'cos my Westie girlfriends have sent me a letter to let me know they are back home in Aberdeen. Apprehensive 'cos, as you will see when you read their letter, they are now accustomed to a jet-setting lifestyle and I fear they will find me dull and provincial.

Here is Florrie and Lucy's letter, with photos: 

Dear Bertie,
Just a note from your friends Florrie and Lucy to let you know we are home again, back in Aberdeen. Our human Ian (we think you call him 'Oilman') has finally returned from Yemen and at long last collected us from Jon and Kate (his older son and daughter-in-law) in Guernsey where we have been living since Feb 2011. Rather than putting us in a box and leaving us sitting around for hours in airports, Ian said this time he would get Max (his younger son and now a pilot with Ryanair), to fly us home instead. It was all very exciting when Ian took us to a tiny airport and we sat in a room surrounded by little - but posh - aircraft. 

In the airport lounge

We didn't have to wait long as our aircraft arrived right outside and Max opened the door and let us all in. We were soon airborne and heading north back towards home. 

Lucy airborne

Pilot Max and proud (and not at all nervous) father Ian 

It was rather noisy, and cold (Florrie had both blankets) but before long we were landing in Liverpool and then into a car and home. We caught up on our sleep on the way, it's a good job as we finally arrived back in Aberdeen at 3.00 am. As you can see, we were soon back in our positions on the sofa having a good lookout for the local cat (also confusingly called Max). 

Florrie and Lucy home at last

It's lovely to be home, even though we sometimes miss those splendid beach walks in Guernsey, but we are after all not called West Highland Terriers for nothing! 

Florrie and Lucy back in their natural habitat

Cheerio,
Florrie and Lucy.

I had been planning, before this letter arrived, to invite 'the girls' to join me for a walk, but now I am worried that they will have grown too grand for that sort of thing. Maybe if I offered to take them round the Queen's Balmoral estate? (We could always enter at the Ballochbuie Forest end where you don't have to pay.....)

Readers, please, your ideas for how to handle this delicate social situation would be most welcome!

A walk with the 'OIL' man

We went for a lovely walk in the hills with Gail's friend Ian this weekend. 

Wow his car is a bit smarter (and cleaner) than Gail's ...

See how I am gazing in admiring fashion at Ian.

Of course, I didn't neglect to remind Gail that I adore her the most.

And here I am at the top of the big hill, receiving in return the attention that is my due.

(We are sitting in a wind shelter. You often find these little stone constructions at the top of hills in Scotland, as up high it is almost always blowing a gale and so walkers need somewhere to shelter and eat their squashed sandwiches and drink their flasks of coffee. They are great places to sniff out scraps of left overs.)

Normally, we'd expect to meet mountain hare and ptarmigan up here, but it seemed they were being shy so it was just us and the occasional noisily flapping red grouse.

At the end of the day, we came down off the hills and into a pretty birch wood. The grass was so soft on the paws, like a deep pile carpet, a relief after all the stones higher up.


The humans appeared to be slowing down a bit. Well you know, they're not as young as when they first met, a quarter of a century ago!  Whereas me, I am now in the full bloom of youth, at one with the fresh green leaves dancing on the birch trees, and the bluebells, violets and delicate speedwells newly bursting through the undergrowth. (Sorry there are no photos of the flowers. Blame Gail.)

So anyway I sat down patiently to wait.

And when the others caught up I remembered to wag my tail and say "thank you" politely to Ian for such a nice day out.

PS You might recall that last summer I stayed briefly with Ian and his two gorgeous Westies, Florrie and Lucy. I was most disappointed that the Westies didn't come along today, and rather worried. But it's all OK.  Gail explained that, 'cos Ian is mostly working abroad at the moment (in Yemen, yikes!) the 'girls' have gone to stay temporarily with his son who lives in the Channel Islands, and are having a splendid time with beach walks every day. Here they are, about to board the plane on their way out to Guernsey.

I do hope I see them again some time.