A refresher course in Bertie walking

I know, it feels like it was an earlier geological era, but do you remember when, back in March, I was over in Torridon training some new walking companions, Richard and Tess? 

Well a lot has happened since then, but I am delighted to report that I was finally able to meet up with my lovely Torridon neighbours again yesterday and, even better, they had not forgotten the lessons I taught. (Tess even remembered the 'humans should always carry dog-friendly shortbread in their pocket' bit of the course..)

Tess and Richard had heard about my recent diagnosis, and were a bit concerned I might only manage a short outing, but Gail told them she thought I'd be fine, so long as they allowed plenty of time for my pee stops. And let me tell you, it was not me who was holding up the party when we ventured the three miles up the rocky path from Annat to Loch an Eoin.

As you can see, the environment was, shall we say, Scotland-soggy, and I hope you will excuse my bedraggled appearance in the picture below. 

PS Any rumours that Gail carried me across the stepping stones after I refused to dip my paws in the fast flowing stream or balance on the uneven boulders are absolutely Fake News. 

Training new walking companions

On Sunday morning Gail and I went out for a walk on the Coulin Estate with our nice part-time Torridon neighbours, Tess and Richard. Despite being based in London, this couple are keen hill-walkers, and I was looking forward very much to the outing.

T & R are not dog owners, so I made allowances for the fact that some training in the matter of my walking requirements would be required.

First off, it was important to establish that an intact male dog needs time to mark his territory, and so the walking pace must permit this, especially when that dog is ten years old.

And then, I mean, can you believe, Tess imagined I might pose with her for a photo beside Loch Clair despite my knowing full well that she was not carrying treats! It was only when Gail handed her a small morsel of dried venison that I obliged (sort of).

So Tess, for future reference, I know you are a vegetarian, more or less, but perhaps you might consider putting a few pieces of hard cheese, or even a biscuit (which doesn't have to be especially for dogs, shortbread would do) in your pocket before you leave the house.

Later on, the humans chose a route that involved about a mile on newly laid gravel of the type that is rather hard on the paws. Now I appreciate that it's difficult to avoid this sort of surface altogether - after all, one can't predict if a Land Rover track will have been recently resurfaced - but I'm sure T & R will note for future reference that this terrier prefers soft grass, or a muddy path, or smooth pebbles, or even tarmac.

I will concede that the gravel track led to a very satisfactory footpath along a beautiful wee valley edged with native Scots pine trees. Here I reminded Tess of my right to block the trail whenever an interesting smell presents itself.

A bit further along, Gail and I showed how to pose nicely in the snow and beside waterfalls.

As we climbed higher, I romped ahead to give a practical demonstration of the concept of selective deafness while Gail cried: "Bertie, wait! WAIT!"

All in all though, it was a thoroughly enjoyable ten mile hike, and I am hoping, now that Tess and Richard are properly trained, we'll have many more adventures with them in the future.

Torridon Boot Camp

I am delighted to report that this weekend I succeeded in dragging Gail away from her never ending IKEA project and across to our cottage in Torridon. Even better, we were joined for the duration by our friend Yvonne.

And lest you imagine it was all about basking in the unaccustomed warmth and sunshine, I must set you straight right away. I had a challenging and intensive mission to execute.

You see, in under a month's time, I shall be staying with Yvonne for ten days while Gail is on yet another cycling trip. You will therefore understand it was of the utmost importance that I ensure our friend is properly trained in the finer points of Bertie care.

I must say Yvonne passed the first test with flying colours, responding very promptly when I sounded the early morning call in front of the cottage. (Gail says I may also have woken up every other household within a five mile radius, although she is exaggerating as usual).


I knew already that Yvonne is pretty capable when it comes to taking me for walks. So I think I will forgive her for dropping my obviously well deserved treat on path rather than delivering it directly to my mouth..



Her photography skills are coming along nicely too (which will of course be important if I am to keep up to date with my blog in Gail's absence).


I think we still need to work a little on certain issues. For example, ignoring me in favour of messaging her offspring and her husband Neil is really not acceptable is it?


And I hope I am mistaken in thinking that Yvonne here is trying to exert some discipline...


Also, I am not yet quite convinced she properly understands that even a lively chap like me needs his 'quiet time' every now and then.


However, all in all, Yvonne's training went rather well, we have formed an affectionate bond and I am now very much looking forward to staying with her and Neil in May.


I even think it could be quite a laugh...

Yodelling? Fondue? More training for Switzerland

You know it's all very well Gail taking me for walks in the hills and calling it "training for the Alps". (In in truth, it's been jolly good fun).

But I fear she has been neglecting other aspects of Swiss life for which I need some practice too.

I did myself take the initiative last night and attempt to bend my vocal chords to a yodelling sound. For some reason Gail did not approve at all and instructed me to be quiet. But never mind, I am thinking there will be plenty of opportunity to rehearse on the long train journey across Holland and Germany, right...?

In one of our kitchen cupboards, gathering dust from the 1970's, I found something I believe is called a 'fondue set'. You can buy Gruyere and Emmental in the shops here in the UK, and I am still hoping to persuade Gail to get going with the methylated spirits and let me sample this delectable sounding traditional Swiss speciality before we depart. After all, I'm thinking that the art of consuming melted cheese without getting one's beard all gunked up might take some mastering.

But Gail seems reluctant, reminding me that my first ever encounter with a Swiss-made object, the 'water soluble pencil set' pictured below, had, quite literally, an unfortunate outcome (as described in 'The Blue Poo Incident')...

Wire-haired fox terrier problems (1)

This is the first of what I intend to be an occasional series of short posts dealing with life problems affecting (but surely not unique to) my own breed.

It has come to my attention that in certain human circles the phase 'first world problems' is used, often dismissively, to indicate someone might be complaining about an issue too trivial to merit a sympathetic response.

Let me assure you that 'wire-haired fox terrier problems' in no way belong in this category.

Today I want to address the topic of what to do when one is out on a walk and finds one's progress impeded by a small but prickly twig caught uncomfortably in one's wiry furs.

I am pleased to report that the solution to this particular problem is fairly straightforward.

What you need to do is first to stop in your tracks, ignoring all calls to "come Bertie COME". Then you adopt a stance which indicates slight discomfort, and gaze up at your human with a pathetic, pleading look.

Pretty soon your human will approach you and, at minimal inconvenience to yourself, will grab hold of said twig and gently but firmly (this may take them a bit of practice) extract the offending item from your furs, allowing you to continue unencumbered on your walk.

The speed of the response will, obviously, depend on your human's level of training and general alertness. For example, it took several 'twig in furs' episodes before Gail learned that I was not just "making a fuss about nothing"…

As if.

"He's a fantastic little dog"

I have been most remiss in not keeping you up to date with news of my training activities.

You might remember that I attended an agility class earlier in the year. It was such good fun, the highlight of my week in fact, but we had to miss loads and loads of sessions 'cos the time - Saturday at noon - was apparently inconvenient, and after a few weeks Gail withdrew me from the class. She insists it had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the chap who led the sessions had such a strong NE Scotland accent that she only caught one word in three of what he was saying. Absolutely not at all.....

So anyway, after my stellar performance at the Feis Alligin agility demo, Gail finally got around to contacting another group, Deeside Dog Agility Club, who meet on Tuesday nights in a field just couple of miles away from my Aberdeen home. And, guess what? I have been accepted on to their training programme!

I can't tell you how excited I am.

Gail is pretty excited too, as this time she has no problem understanding the trainer. He was super enthusiastic and encouraging, and said (of me) at the end of the second session, earlier this week:

"He's a fantastic little dog".

Here I am, at home the morning after, basking in all the acclaim.

Sitting pretty - unintended consequences

This 'sit' business, then.

Gail says 'sit'. She shows me a treat. I'm all excited. She says 'sit' again. She tries to push my bum against the cold tiles (the indignity). I execute an ungainly backwards somersault. Perfect control of the back legs is some way off.

After a few more goes, I realise what she's on about. She says 'sit'. I adopt the required posture. I'm given a tasty bit of cheese.

Brilliant!

So if I'm sitting down, I get a treat, right?

Well all yesterday, I tried sitting down, unbidded, at random intervals. Sat there looking hopefully at Gail with my cute little face. But NO TREAT!

Someone please tell me what's gone wrong?

Oh, I know where to look for advice. Gail tells me I have two wise Aunties, Martha and Bailey, the Bonnie Basset Babes. Let's visit their blog.

Martha and Bailey are telling everyone to relax this weekend. I hadn't realised there were modes of existence (Gail, I hope you're impressed that I'm using big words, just like Hamish did) other than 'all action' and 'fast asleep' but apparently this 'relaxation' is what you're supposed to do on Saturdays and Sundays.

So I thought I'd give it a go.