The thistle, the sheep and the flexi-lead...

Does your human ever suffer from the disease 'brightideasitis'?

It never comes to any good does it? 

For example, let me tell you about what happened last week.

First you have to know that Gail's holiday cottage by Loch Torridon is near a croft and there are sheep wandering about all over the place, making all sorts of stupid baa-ing noises and generally asking to be chased by a spirited little wire-haired fox terrier. 

But apparently the crofter, for some reason, is less than enthusiastic about the idea of yours truly trying to make friends with his precious flock. And he owns a shotgun. 

So anyway, a couple of weeks ago Gail had the 'bright idea' to buy me a flexi-lead for use over at Torridon. She said that way I could have a bit more freedom than with my short city lead, but not be tempted into any naughtiness around the sheep. 

Personally, I was never convinced.

For starters, have you ever tried one of these flexi-lead thingies? SO confusing. You think you can race around to your heart's content then suddenly, just as you're reaching full speed, aaarghhh!!! Then there's the problem that, seemingly at random, you find the lead is locked short and you might as well be on the non-flexi one, where at least you know where you stand.

Well anyway, there we were, walking up just past the croft, me dashing to and fro and generally trying to figure out this new walking regime when all of a sudden a sheep ran right in front of me and I just couldn't help but try to follow.  It's in my nature. But then when I realised the lead was fully extended and the sheep beyond reach, I went, I admit, a little crazy and ran around in a circle. It just so happens, not my fault at all, that I had encircled a big prickly old thistle. I really don't want to repeat some of the words Gail was coming out with as she tried to disentangle the lead from the thistle. Let's just say "ow ow ow!' was the least of it! Then the sheep started baa-ing like it was making fun of me so of course I decided to show the world that a little terrier can make much a better noise than some big lumbering woolly lump that's destined to keep company with mint sauce on the dinner table .....

You know what? The good thing is, I do believe Gail is having second thoughts about her 'bright idea'.

Un Poseur? Moi?

I can't believe that Gail has just accused me of being "a bit of a poser these days". After all the time and energy she's devoted to cajoling me into standing or sitting still in front of the camera in suitably scenic spots.

There's just no pleasing some folk.

So, what do you think, based on these pictures mostly taken last weekend over at Loch Torridon?

Me, standing proud in front of Beinn Dearg

Me, the first Autumn crocus and Hamish's memorial stone

Me, besides the exuberant waters of Abhainn Coire Mhic Nòbuil

Me, admiring the ever splendid view of Loch Torridon from the cottage garden

Me, lit by a shaft of sunlight, waiting to be taken outside to do more posing

Me, showing my appreciation of the Torridonian Sandstone

Me, in reflective mood in the cottage garden

Me, in guard dog pose (scared, aren't you, sheep?)

Me, the centrepiece of a stereotypical Scottish composition involving heather and mountains

Me, in the heather again (eat your heart out, Westies!)

You have to admit, I'm getting rather good at this posing lark, even though I say so myself.

Oh what's this? Gail is saying perhaps I might consider modelling some cute wee outfits then, like so many of my bloggie pals.

NO NO NO NO NO !!!

Quelle horreur.

The Torridon Echo

Gail loves the garden of our cottage on Loch Torridon 'cos of the ever changing view over the sea loch and mountains, the colourful tangle of unkempt flowers, the fond memories of Hamish the Westie (whose ashes are buried here), the fresh salt-scented breeze, the, er, serenity...

I love it 'cos when I bark I can hear my own voice echoing back!

Can you hear me? Twice! (You may have to turn up the volume). The echo works better in some parts of the garden than in others - the acoustics experts amongst you will understand why.

Don't I sound great?

Oh. Gail is saying after all that row, I have to let her show you this tranquil photo of Loch Torridon, which she rushed outside to take at about 8:30 pm on Sunday evening, braving the clouds of wee midgies.

You can have too much peace and quiet Gail.

A worthy heir to 'Fred the Shred' ...

I want to complain to the advertising standards watchdog!

How dare the Royal Bank of Scotland exploit a dear cute little pup in order to sell its products. And how dare they besmirch the good name of dogs in general in order to perpetrate myths that we cause problems for our humans.

As if!

Oh. Is that a chewed card you've found there Gail?

Absolutely nothing to do with me ....

PS from Gail for non-UK readers: 'Fred the Shred' is the nickname given to Fred Goodwin, former CEO of the Royal Bank of Scotland, who in 2008 presided over the biggest annual loss in British corporate history (£24 billion).