Superglued to the sofa...

So Gail and I arrived home in Aberdeen on Saturday evening, after ending our big trip abroad with a pleasant couple of days staying with friends in Yorkshire.

Over the past two weeks I have travelled on or in the following:

• 24 trains* in 3 countries 
• 2 ferries (Stena Line, from Harwich to Hoek van Holland and back) 
• 2 cars (in Bavaria and Yorkshire)
• 2 urban metros (Hoek van Holland to Schiedam and back) 
• 1 cable car (Breitenberg Bahn) 
• 1 bus (no. 46 York to Pocklington)

At all times I was a good boy and was never sick.

I think I now deserve some sofa time...

*The trains were: (1) Aberdeen to Newcastle, (2) Newcastle to Newark North Gate, (3) Newark Castle to Nottingham, (4) Nottingham to London St Pancras, (5) London Liverpool Street to Harwich, (6) Schiedam to Rotterdam, (7) Rotterdam to Utrecht, (8) Utrecht to Köln, (9) Köln to Mainz, (10) Mainz to Darmstadt, (11) Darmstadt to Augsburg, (12) Augsburg to Buchloe, (13) and (14), Buchloe to Biessenhofen and back, (15) Landsberg am Lech to Kaufering, (16) Kaufering to Buchloe, (17) Buchloe to Augsburg, (18) Augsburg to Düsseldorf, (19) Düsseldorf to Utrecht, (20) Utrecht to Rotterdam, (21) Rotterdam to Schiedam, (22) Harwich to London Liverpool Street, (23) London Kings Cross to York, (24) York to Aberdeen.

Lederhosen? NO!!!!!!!!

Gail has noted that we shall be travelling through Germany around the time of Oktoberfest.

She is a little apprehensive about taking me on the train in Germany anyway (according to the Deutsche Bahn website, I am supposed to wear a muzzle*) and she has suggested that perhaps I should put on an outfit to better blend in.

Meanwhile, I am wondering if Gail should be wearing a Dirndl?

She says not, but that a large beer might yet be necessary... 

 *Gail says - I am told that it is unlikely in practice that Bertie will be required to be muzzled, but I should carry one just in case. So I am trying to get Bertie get comfortable with the concept of 'ein Maulkorb' by having him wear one at home for short stints, accompanied by plentiful treats. If any readers have experience of taking dogs on trains in Germany, I'd love to hear about it. 

(I do want to go to) Chelsea*

Bertie's future as a fashion accessory?

Is five and a half too old to have a tantrum?

Now we established last week, didn’t we, that if a Chihuahua can undertake a ten hour flight from Seattle to Frankfurt, then there is absolutely no reason for an only slightly oversized wire-haired fox terrier not to travel around the globe with his doting human?

So imagine my horror when Gail announced that she is flying to London for a business meeting next week, and taking the opportunity while ‘Down South’ to visit Human Granny in  Nottingham for a few days, and as a result I am being left behind AGAIN.

I feel it is a failure of imagination on Gail’s part, that she can’t figure out how I could accompany her on this trip. But I am a creative kind of a pup, with a terrier’s tenacity, and I have been gnawing away at the problem.

You know, to me it seems simple. One just need to take things one step at a time.

1. The flight from Aberdeen to London: the fact that British Airways do not allow dogs in the cabin is no obstacle, I think. Either I could be smuggled in using a cabin bag with air holes (the flight is only 90 mins) or Gail could pretend she was fat or pregnant and hide me under her coat. If she removes my collar, I see no reason why I should be detected by the scanner…
2. The colleague accompanying Gail: I gather he is a friendly chap called Ishfaq and, although of Asian background, was born and bred in Scotland and so is culturally hard-wired to be dog tolerant and thus happy to co-operate with my escapade. Furthermore, his brown skin may act as an additional distraction at airport security (these folk are known to deal in the crudest of stereotypes) thus aiding my plan to slip through unnoticed. 
3. Heathrow to London SW3: I googled this one and am pleased to report that dogs are allowed the Heathrow Express, the London Underground and in black cabs. For sure an Uber driver would take me too?
4. While the meeting is taking place: two options here I think. 
1. The meeting is hosted by a French oil company with swanky offices just behind the Saatchi Gallery in Chelsea. In an ideal world I would be welcomed into the meeting room with open arms, immediately supplied with water and at lunch fed a choice selection from the buffet provided for the humans. The fact that the first time Gail ever visited this office, the new General Manager - just arrived from France - threw a big hissy fit at the poor standard of the lunchtime refreshments, bodes well, surely, for a quality offering this time around. 
2. However, I think it wise to have a contingency plan just in case anyone at the meeting kicks up a fuss and claims to be allergic to dogs. Mine is to be temporarily adopted by one of the international super-model type women whose natural habitat is the Sloane Square end of Kings Road. 
   
   Such ladies, I believe, regard cute fluffy pups as a fashionable accessory and, let’s face it, few are as cute as my good self.  So if I am expelled from the office building and onto the street, I aim to execute a perfectly timed bounce into the handbag of one such lady, who will exclaim ‘too cute’ and take me on a tour of designer boutiques, ply me with deliciously tooth-rotting treats and show me off to all her friends. Since such people have short attention spans, and their stick thin arms are not made for carrying  9 kg of WFT for long, I anticipate my adopter will tire of me after a few hours and will abandon me near to where I was picked up, just in time to reunite with Gail when her meeting ends. What could possibly go wrong? 
5. London to Nottingham: now we are on the home straight, as Nottingham is less than two hours away from London by train and once safely arrived, not even Gail can dream up further objections to my remaining with her for the duration.

How about it Gail?

*With apologies to Elvis Costello...

Something new every journey..

 Enjoying a wee break by Edinburgh Castle, en route to Nottingham.

Such fun!

Oh gosh I do love travelling by train. You never know what is going to happen, and which lovely people you are going to meet.

Oh and by the way, I know that in the past there have been some adventures that Gail has - wrongly in my view - classified as misdemeanours, but these days I have learned that it all goes better if I concentrate more on the happy smiles and less on the barking and the escapology. So it was on Friday.


At Edinburgh, a lively group of young men came and sat just along the carriage from us. You could see they were well organised.

"Right, poker players round one table, drinkers round the other" said their top dog chappie as they were forcing their bags precariously into the overhead luggage space.


Although I did later notice that in fact they all were making use of the crate of beer they'd brought along.

Now look at me here!


Oh I can't tell you how grown up and, well, masculine I felt when I was invited to join the poker party.

But Gail says I shall have to work on my 'poker face'. And tail.

??

PS I know you all want to hear about HGD. Well he is 'semi-settled' in his new home, and still gives Gail a HUGE smile whenever he sees her. I am going to be allowed to visit later today. Yippee! 

Happy memories

Gosh Gail took about a squillion photos of our big trip down south to celebrate Human Grandad's 90th birthday.  But she says I have to select only a dozen, maximum, and that I do not have much time on the computer to tell you all about the trip 'cos she is super busy this week. 

Well here goes. Rush rush rush. 

Of course we travelled to Nottingham by railway. As you know I am by now a seasoned train traveller. 

But I bet you didn't know that the train company supplies me with my own personalised crisps. 

A shame that they can't spell, but what's a dog to do?

Oh, Gail is saying to remember it's "not all about me" and that people will want to see some pictures of the Birthday Boy.

Well here he is, together with Human Granny of course (they have been together for fifty five years).

Do you like his birthday cake?

I did sample a wee morsel myself and am pleased to report that it was just delicious.

Oh and here we all are, out for the promised birthday walk by the River Trent

I expect you will have noticed that HGD is not wearing a hat. I am mortified to admit I totally forgot that I was not supposed to let him out of the house unless he was well wrapped up. In mitigation, I plead that the weather was unusually mild for November. And that HGD still has a covering of distinguished white hair, anyway. And that you will see I am keeping a careful eye on him.

The next day I went for a longer walk by the river with Gail, and contemplated swimming out to greet a swan.

But then I dipped my paw in the muddy water and thought the better of it, remembered that I am not a water dog, and retreated back to terra firma and the nice broad grassy path.

The perfect place for a terrier to tear around.

In the grandparents' house,  I of course made myself thoroughly at home. So many comfy spots to chose from.

But oh too soon it was time to come home.

I was able to read a few blogs on the journey back.

We changed trains at Edinburgh again.

I think Edinburgh might just be the dog-friendliest city in the world. We had a hour to walk around the city centre and if Gail's camera battery had not run out, I would have been able to show you pictures of all the many kind folk who stopped to admire me and give me a friendly pat as I performed an early evening promenade up and down the Royal Mile and Princes Street (still no trams). 

So many happy memories. Can we go back to Nottingham soon Gail?

PS I would like to assure my marvellous Aunties Martha and Bailey Basset that I also gave ninety barks for Human Grandad. Unfortunately, Gail seems to think that on the train between Doncaster and Durham was not the right place to do it, and that the rude gentleman who we overheard saying, as the train pulled out of Newcastle station, "oh I hoped the dog would be getting off there" might have had some justification for his comments....

Party for her, prison for me...

It's not fair.

I blame Hamish.

I'm sorry but it's true. Just because my esteemed predecessor threw a bit of a tantrum when the train down to Nottingham got delayed last year (you can read his version of events if you follow this link). Oh and something too about me being 'immature' and even 'bouncy'. Anyway, it seems that Gail has decided to leave me behind when she travels by train.

Well no. It's actually worse than that.

I get put in prison for three days. This is the prison.

Isn't it horrible. And all for the crime of being too bouncy. Disproportionate or what?

Meanwhile Gail gets to see all her family.

Including her lovely and so-generous-with-the-doggie-treats mother. There was a big party to celebrate my human Granny's 80th birthday. Everyone was there. Except me. Who was in prison. I just had to make do with the photos. No-one even saved me any birthday cake. Not that I'm sore or anything you understand...

This is human Granny and her two grandchildren. I haven't yet met the grandchildren. They have a poodle called Izzy and a pony called Eva. I haven't met them either, although, from reading back through Hamish's blog, I gather that Izzy is a bit of an air-head who puts nail varnish on her claws....

You might be wondering who this fine fellow below is....(Yes it's me on the left, obviously, I know you know that).

The other fox terrier's called Riley. He's a year old, and apparently originates from the same breeder as me (Granddach Terriers). We met him at the end of a walk in a wood near the prison, soon after I was released. He's very handsome and friendly. I guess we are probably related somehow. Well at least it would be nice to think that I did meet up with some family too this weekend......