Peak tail?

Here I am, standing in the sink, my sore paws having a soothing soak in warm water. There has been happening a lot just lately.

I don't know if you remember, but this winter, I am, in the cause of science, engaged in a 'no fur stripping experiment'.

It is scheduled to come to an end in a few weeks time.

Meanwhile, Gail believes I might have reached 'peak tail'.

What do you think?
 
PS Silly Gail, who has been a a bit distracted this week, got confused in my last post about the date of my next visit to the vet. We are in fact going this evening (Thursday). Meanwhile, my paws are a teeny bit better but far from properly better. 

Needed in India?

I was chomping my way through my kibble last Saturday morning when I heard this on the radio:

"The England tail failed to wag".

Maybe some of my readers are unaware that England's cricket team is currently touring in India, and that they lost the most recent game against the host nation.

Anyway, it seems this business of the non-wagging tail contributed to the defeat.

I am thinking perhaps I should fly out there right away and give 'our boys' the benefit of my expertise in this area.

What do you think?

Oh, it seems that some pup has beaten me to it...


Or maybe not. I didn't see much tail wagging going on there.

Now which is the quickest way to Mumbai?

After the weather in Aberdeen this week I could do with some warmth...

 

Tail envy?

Really, there are few situations in life which are not improved by having a tail.

Now Gail is questioning whether my readers (with the obvious exception of esteemed Mayoress Madi), will bear yet another post on the topic of my rear-end appendage.

Do you think she could possibly be suffering from Tail Envy?

It must be so limiting, to have to use just your facial muscles to express joy, anticipation, delight, friendliness, uncertainty, vigilance, anger and fear, do you not agree?

I am thinking that all those not-so-young actresses with faces immobilised by botox might get hired again, if only they were able to access a nicely flexible tail to help convey emotion.

And did you know that us wire-haired fox terriers really are very special and unique in this area of anatomy?

It's not only that we don't mind a bit if you tug at our tail, quite hard, in a way which would cause offence to most pups. According to Gail's vet friend Kirsty, when (heaven forbid) WFT's are put under anaesthetic, our tails twitch in a manner unique to our breed*. Isn't that something else?

Some folk, e.g. dog show judges, would claim I am over-endowed, tail-wise.

Clearly, that is a ridiculous concept.

*Gail was intrigued by this snippet of terrier lore, and later asked Kirsty if the trait had been documented anywhere, but was disappointed to learn the evidence is merely "anecdotal".

Breed standard, breed schmandard!

"The tail should be high set and carried erect but not curling over the back."

Who made up those rules anyway?  

I mean, could I be more handsome?

PS from Gail: Low self-esteem has never been a problem with Bertie.

Fox hunting: my true vocation?

The South Notts Hunt meet on Boxing Day 2012 at Car Colston

Spending an afternoon in the office last week (see previous post) set me to thinking about my breed's ancestral role.

Did you know that us wire haired fox terriers were once an integral part of the English fox hunting tradition?

I don't know if readers outside the UK are aware that hunting foxes with dogs is, controversially, now banned in this country. It's all very confusing 'cos, as you see from the picture above, huntsmen - and women - do still ride out with a pack of hounds. Only these days, they follow an artificially laid trail rather than chase real live foxes. At least that's what is supposed to happen.

Gail tells me that when was a child the whole family used to drive out to watch the South Notts Hunt's Boxing Day meet. It was a thrilling occasion, and the country lanes were jammed with 'townies' in festive mood, trying to follow by car as the riders as the tore over the fields, hedgerows and ditches of the flat Midlands countryside in pursuit of their prey.

But even in those ancient times (the 1960's) there were no terriers involved. You have to go back another hundred years to the days when us WFT's were used to 'bolt' any foxes that went to ground, to flush out the fox, so the horses and hounds could continue the chase.

Have you ever tried pulling one of my breed by the tail? Typically, we don't mind a bit. Gail has always found it odd that, whereas apparently my predecessor Hamish the Westie would go ballistic if you so much as touched his tail, I don't react at all, even if she yanks mine quite hard. Her friend Kirsty the Vet says this is a throwback to when we were bred for being pulled backwards out of foxholes by our docked tails. (Tail docking is now also banned).

Oh how I would have loved to take part in a hunt.

In Nottingham over Christmas, when out for a suburban walk late one evening, I caught sight of a real live fox.

Grrrr. I could have shown those hounds a thing or two. But, can you believe, a certain spoilsport refused point blank to let me off the lead...