Wheelie dog or Rottweiler?

I've noticed, when out for walks in these times of social-distancing, that when people see me trotting down the pavement, they often cross to the opposite side of the street.

Is this what it feels to be a Rottweiler, or other breed with a reputation for being fierce?

How much I preferred it when folk would stop by to pat me, say isn't he cute and tell me I reminded them of the toy pup on wheels they had as a child.

Gail with wheelie dog c.1960

"Why the long face, Bertie?"

I hear this question too often. I think it is supposed to be some sort of a joke.

Like the way people will look at me and say "oh I used to have one of those, with wheels on"....

Of course, regular readers will realise that the 'long face' thing merely pertains to the shape of my head.  That I am the happiest, bounciest little chappie you could hope to meet should be clear from these photos from Sunday's outing to Millstone Hill and Paradise Wood, where it was so nice and sunny I even ventured into the river Don for a wee paddle, voluntarily... 

I kept my back dry and my paws on terra firma, mind.

Oh and Happy 4th July to all my American friends! 

Wheelie Wednesday bedtime story

We were having a bedtime cuddle last night, Gail and I, and she told me a nice story.

It was about when she was a wee eighteen month old human pup, way way back in the dark ages (May, 1960). Her Granny gave her a little wheelie dog. See him the picture, with Gail sitting on top. At least she tells me that's her, although to be honest, you wouldn't know, what with wearing a cute dress and all...

Well from then on, she always wanted a dog. Maybe even one shaped a bit like a wheelie. But her Mum and Dad, said NO, not practical, have a guinea pig instead.

Arthur was a much loved guinea pig, who lived to be eight years old, a fine chap apparently*, albeit a bit limited in the unconditional love stakes, and not a great walker.

Most readers will know about Gail's first 'real' dog, Hamish. He was such a grand fellow and I have much to live up to. But wheelie-shaped he was not.

And now Gail has me, and as she cuddles me one more time before tucking me up for the night with my hot-water bottle, she tells me I'm just perfect and that we're going to be wheelie wheelie happy together.

Sweet dreams.

*How can you tell, with a guinea pig?