Quietly assertive or just plain bossy?

Do your humans ever make the mistake of assuming that just because they are friends with someone, then you will automatically be best pals with that person's dog...

It doesn't always work like that does it?

It might look from the photos above that, when Gail went for a walk in Glen Tanar with her friend Yvonne on Sunday, Yvonne's flat-coated retriever Jake and I were getting along just fine. I think that's the impression Gail sought to create with her highly selective camera work.

Let me list for you some of the pictures that could have been taken but weren't.

In my house before we left:

• Jake eating my food
• Jake drinking my water
• Jake laying on my bed
• Jake monopolising my spot by the radiator
• Jake tearing the nose off my favourite stuffed Newfie dog

En route to Glen Tanar:

• Jake peering over from the boot of the car in an irritating manner
• Me on Gail's lap in the front seat, barking loudly in response
• Yvonne driving, gloating "isn't my Jakey a good, quiet dog?"

Out walking in the forest:

• Jake unfairly taking advantage of his longer legs to beat me in a race through the undergrowth
• Jake after a swim, shaking himself dry all over me (and Gail, and Yvonne)
• Jake stealing the stick I was chewing from OUT OF MY VERY MOUTH!!

But you know what irritated me more than anything? Overhearing Gail say to Yvonne; "Isn't it fascinating the way Jake is so calmly and quietly assertive".

FASCINATING!?  Grrrrrhhh

Here are some Jake-free better photos from the walk. (We stayed in the glen 'cos it was too windy to go climbing any hills).

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PLEASE LET ME INTO THE TEA SHOP!

PS from Gail: should any readers ever visit Royal Deeside, I thoroughly recommend the 'Sign of the Black-Faced Sheep' café in Aboyne for the most delicious post-walk cakes! 

Dogs and bankers

We venture even further into dangerous territory today....

You might remember that a couple of months ago I was most upset about a Royal Bank of Scotland advert which implied that us terriers did bad things like chewing up cards...

Well I am pleased to report that someone has take note of my objections and there is a new and much more satisfactory RBS advert out now.

Golly gosh Gail isn't that a nice poster! Why don't you put some of our savings in that bank, after all they seem such a caring institution?

Oh dear, my innocent comment has elicited a stream of very rude words from Gail. How uncharacteristic.

.....

Now that she's calmed down a bit I think I can decipher some of what she's trying to say.

She's spluttering on about the fact that she, the taxpayer, gave £37 billion to RBS a couple of years ago, so that they could keep on paying their senior staff huge boneses (?) and she doesn't feel like putting any more of her hard earned pennies their way just yet....

Well now let me see. There are about 10 million dogs in the UK. So if the government had given the £37 billion to dogs instead of bankers, that would be £3,700 per dog, which could be soundly invested in treats, days out and vet bills. Yes I am beginning to see Gail's point. It is a lot of money.

Oh, Gail has started spluttering again.

Apparently I'm taking a selfish view of matters and it is not the government's role to buy treats for pets, rather they could have used the money to pay more to humans who actually do useful jobs, like teachers and nurses and care workers.

But we dogs do valuable work too don't we, by providing entertainment, keeping our humans fit and spreading love?

This is all so complicated.

All things considered, perhaps I'll go back to card chewing after all.

Oh, I forgot. I never ever did chew a bank card. Honest!

Bertie: the picture of innocence

PS Gail is saying we're going to go for a lovely walk in the hills today, never mind the gale force winds, she thinks it will do both of us good.

An unexpected encounter by the Trent

I don't know if any of my friends suffer from the same problem, but Gail is totally hopeless when it comes to photographing people and dogs that we spot when out on our daily walks.

It's not like she's shy in general. Well perhaps a bit, with humans she doesn't know.

Anyway, it sometimes happens that I want her to take a photo and she says, "no Bertie, I'd feel awkward", and I have to illustrate my posts with the help of images from the internet instead.

So it was last weekend. When walking along the river Trent we met an elderly gentleman in what I thought was a funny hat, out for a morning leg stretch with his enormous and exceptionally handsome Rhodesian ridgeback.

They stopped to say hello. We found out that the dog's name was Raja. I bounced around him for a few moments, but then left off as he didn't seem to want to play (see I am learning). Raja's owner smiled politely at me and, in a gentle and well-spoken voice, said that he was so sorry but now that Raja was ten he wasn't very sociable any more.

Gail later explained that the gentleman was a 'Sikh' and that he was wearing a turban, not a funny hat. He looked strange to me 'cos we don't tend to see Sikhs in the north of Scotland, but apparently there are a lots in Nottingham. When Gail was a child many of the city bus conductors were Sikhs, then quite newly arrived from India, and they were allowed to wear the city council badge on their turbans, rather than the standard uniform cap.

I rather liked the look of the turban. What fun it would be to unravel! I bet Raja had a blast when he was a puppy.

Oh, I am being told to stop rambling on. Gail fears I am veering into dangerous territory.

But I was only trying to tell you about an encounter that I thought you might find interesting.

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....