A rarely-reported side effect of the Astra Zeneca jab?

On Saturday morning Gail shut the new glass door in the cottage firmly in my face, ignoring my plaintive look while announcing "I'm just off to see a new neighbour Bertie, I'll be back soon".

Half an hour later she returned and showed me some pictures.

So it seems that my Irish terrier friend Dooley has acquired a new baby brother, also an Irish terrier, eight weeks old and yet to be named.

At this point I think I'm supposed to look delighted and say: "Isn't he a cute puppy. Lucky Dooley". 

Dooley is the same age as me, eleven years old, and he is apparently uncertain about the new arrival.

Gosh I totally understand. I like being the only dog in the house and have always hoped Gail is aware of this.

Well the good news is that apparently Gail does realise that I might not welcome a pesky little sibling. 

But you could have knocked me down with a feather when she revealed something she'd hitherto been keeping secret! Back in March, the day after her first Covid shot, Gail got wind of a new litter of Lakeland terriers and drove 30 miles, deep into the Aberdeenshire hills, to see these wee pups. She even took a couple of photos.

She says the pups were totally adorable, that the owners were responsible breeders etc. etc. and she was very, very tempted. But after sleeping on the matter, and with great reluctance, she decided not to risk my disapproval with an addition to the household.

And now, when people ask Gail if she experienced any side effects after her Covid vaccination, she replies thus:

"Yes, I very nearly bought a puppy!"

Unaccustomed to sharing sofas

Rosie the Westie (whom you once met as a puppy in a post from way back when) has come to stay for a few days.

I am not sure how I feel about her sharing my sofa.

I guess I can put up with it until Sunday...

PS On Sunday Rosie is returning home and Gail and I are heading southwest for a meeting with some very special blogging friends. Watch this space....

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?

"Ickle wickle puppy next door!"

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!