Can I confide in you please?

Oh I have been getting so many lectures this week.

"Now Bertie, you won't be doing that when we visit Granny and Grandad's will you?"

"Bertie you must remember to be very quiet because my father just hates yappy dogs."

"Bertie you must realise that the human grandparents aren't used to puppies and they won't understand the difference between a friendly nibble and a nasty bite."

"Bertie, your Granny won't want her pale coloured summer trousers decorated with a pattern of muddy paws."

"Bertie, if you see a plate of scones temptingly laid out on a lace tablecloth*, DON'T YOU DARE GO ANYWHERE NEAR!"

And finally:

"Bertie, when we're in Nottingham, I am afraid that we won't be able to devote much time to your blog, so you'd better warn your pals that they may not be hearing much from you over the next week or so".

So I admit I am just a little apprehensive about this visit down south to England.

We head off later today. Wish me luck!

*Reference to a notorious incident...

My name is NOT 'Big Grey Cloud'

We went over to the cottage on Loch Torridon last weekend.

From the garden, Gail kept pointing up in a north-easterly direction and saying 'see Bertie, that's what you're named after'.

I was most confused. I had understood that for my 'official name', Gail had chosen a rather grand Scottish mountain. But where she was pointing, all I could see was a great big dark cloud. And lots of rain coming out of it.

How very disappointing. One is led to believe that one has been registered with the Kennel Club as 'Granddach Beinn Alligin' (Beinn Alligin is one of the Torridon Moutain group, and the words mean 'Jewelled Mountain' in English). A name that one could be proud of indeed.

And then one finds out that one is actually called 'Big Wet Cloud' or something.

I think Gail caught my look of utter disenchantment. 'No, no Bertie you've got it all wrong, just wait a while and you'll see'.

Well as we know, waiting patiently is not my forte. So I wandered round the garden chewing a few plants, then went indoors and had a nibble at the bristly doormat.

By the time I came back outside the wind had shifted the clouds and we could see a big round lump behind the cottage. That was Beinn Alligin, apparently.

Later, when the clouds had lifted further, we drove round to the other side of Loch Torridon, and Gail made me pose 'nicely' so that she could take this picture of the mountain from a better angle.

Next year, when I am bigger and stronger, we are going to climb it!

[Readers of Gail's 'Between Dogs' blog will know that for everyday purposes I was named Bertie after Bertie Wooster, 'cos P.G. Wodehouse makes Gail smile and I am supposed to do the same. Sometimes she calls me 'Bertie WFTer' or 'Bertie Woofter'. It can be something of a trial when your human likes stupid puns....]

Oh, and while we are one the subject of my weekend in Torridon, I want to show you some more things, to make up for our last visit, when Gail forgot the camera.

I am told that the newly opened shop and cafe in Torridon village is lovely, and that you must visit it if you find yourself in that part of the world. I was made to wait outside, but several friendly people stopped by to give me a pat so that was OK.

Back at the cottage, I discovered a very comfy sofa, and I am allowed up there if I do not nip at Gail's hands too much when she is sitting besides me trying to read. (Why do humans read, by the way, it seems so boring when they could be playing with their dogs...)

Outside, Gail showed me a very special stone. The ashes from her old dog Hamish the Westie are buried under there.

I noticed Gail getting a wee bit tearful when she was telling me about this, so I bounced up and down a few times and tugged at the bottom of her shirt and tried my best to make her smile again.

It seemed to work.

Final puppy class party and video!

Not boasting or anything but I totally cleaned up at the puppy class graduation party last Thursday night!

Yes, I won prizes for games of musical chairs and pass the parcel, and, paired with team mate Baxter the Cockerpoo, also the relay races which involved weaving round the poles with and without potato and spoon (which was held by the humans, obviously..... ) It maybe helped that Gail was once, back in the day, a 100 meters runner! Or so she tells me.

Here am I with Baxter and his mum, celebrating our two victories. Which were no less meaningful for the fact that the competing team consisted of Daisy Dachshund and Freddie Lhasa Apso.

It just so happens that the only time I didn't win was when we played the 'sit when the music stops' game. Which of course is the only one that we videoed*.

*Big thanks to Marie-Therese, film director and fellow member of the victorious relay team.

Four months and four score years!

Phew! Last weekend was totally exhausting. I'm only just now recovering.

You'd think the Friday evening walk up Scolty would have been quite enough! But no, it turns out that Gail had big plans for Sunday too. Every year (well, most years anyway) she goes on a sponsored walk organised by the Tibet Support Group Grampian. They always pick a lovely route through the hills, somewhere different each time, and Gail told me it's not only a good cause it's a wonderful day out.

All well and good, but not till next summer surely? I'm still far too little to walk this year's 7-8 miles round Glen Gairn and Morven Lodge.

But it turned out that Gail had a plan. (I'm learning to be a bit wary of Gail's plans, but that's another story....). Her friend Brian, who is a lot more 'senior' than me (and her) wanted to join the walk too, but maybe just for part of the distance. Well they looked at the map and spotted a path marked which would cut off a section, reducing the length by about half.

The weather was pleasant, by Scottish standards (you will notice in this group shot that the human participants are at least not wearing gloves and woolly hats).

It turned out that the 'shortcut' path was a figment of the Ordnance Survey's imagination, but that didn't deter Brian and I one jot.

And Brian was a jolly good sport all round, for someone who isn't much accustomed to dogs.

He used to do lots of mountain climbing, and could teach me a thing or two about nimbly scrambling over rough ground and down steep slopes. (I'm not as wobbly as I was a month ago, but I do still sometimes lose track of my rear legs).

And no Gail, I don't want to tell people about how I fell fast asleep when we stopped for a break a mile from the end, and then had to be carried most of the rest of the way!

At least she didn't take any photos of that bit.

Well it really was a super day, as promised. Brian and I both thought that the path-less short cut was the most fun part.

And Gail was so glad we hadn't stayed in to watch the England versus Germany football game...