At last she finds a decent book to read ... Maxdog

What's that book you're reading Gail?  Something interesting for once, perhaps? I see it has a beautiful picture of a golden retriever on the front cover.

Well Bertie, strictly speaking I'm re-reading it.  I raced through it so quickly first time round, and now I'm going back over some of my favourite bits.


Fine, Gail, fine. Look really I just want to know who the dog is.

It's Maxdog, silly! Your predecesssor Hamish's old cyber buddy from South Africa. I thought you might recognise him from the photoshopped picture of the two of them 'together' at the side of this blog. 


Oh, THAT Maxdog! The one who died of cancer when I was a wee pup. I don't really remember him, but he was special in some way wasn't he?

He certainly was Bertie. Of course I knew that just from his blog, but now I've read this lovely book by his owner Caryl I understand quite how special he was. 


Hmmmm. (Bertie sounds unimpressed and perhaps a wee bit threatened). Aren't I special too?  So what was so great about Max?

Well, for a start Max was trained to talk, and, more importantly shut up, on command!  No it's OK Bertie, I'm just teasing you. You are special too, of course, even if you don't stop barking when I tell you.  But Max did so many wonderful things, like helping Caryl  reconnect with the world when she was suffering from depression and feeling isolated, and inspiring her to write the blog which played a big part in helping her regain her health, and through which she made friends all over the world with our unique community of dog bloggers. Which you know all about, of course. And then, when Max was diagnosed with liver cancer, he was only given days to live but incredibly he survived and mostly enjoyed life for many more months. 


So which bits of the book are you re-reading Gail?

Well, I really liked the opening chapters about how Max came into Caryl's family initially as her husband's dog, but how Caryl and Max started to develop an exceptionally strong bond - she describes so vividly how he became like her 'shadow'. Then there are some interesting stories about taking Max to obedience classes and dog shows. Anyone who has tried to train a pup will relate to these. Although frankly I think you were a whole lot more of a handful at puppy school than Max ever was. The tales I could tell about that.....


OK, OK, no need to exaggerate.  Anything else about the book?


I found Caryl's account of Max's final illness, and the difficult decision to end his life, particularly poignant, as during that time I had Hamish put to sleep too.  And although much of the book's subject matter is universal, the South African background details are also part of the appeal. Personally, I would just love to have a swimming pool in my garden! But on the other hand, life in Johannesburg clearly has its downsides. At least when we go out for walks here in Scotland, we don't have to worry too much about you getting into fights with aggressive, unsocialised dogs, do we Bertie? Oh and another thing I liked were the poems, so touching - rather better, I might say, than your feeble efforts. 


Oh that is so unfair. You are not comparing like with like.  My métier is comic verse. But tell me, is Maxdog mostly a serious book?


Well of course Bertie, a book about a member of your species will naturally have plenty of light hearted moments. But this one becomes more serious as Caryl describes how she became depressed, after the death of a close friend coincided with several other tough life events. Caryl writes about this with great honesty. And then we learn how it is that she starts a blog and of course that's interesting for me because it was through the Maxdog blog that she and I got to know each other. Believe it or not, Bertie, some of my friends think I'm nuts, helping you write a dog blog. Yes they do! But Caryl explains, so much better than I ever could, why it's all so enjoyable. 


Unlike some books you try to read Gail - the recent tome about particle physics comes to mind - I have noticed that with this one, you are turning the pages over quite rapidly. How is that?

Oh it's such a pleasure to read, Bertie. Caryl writes so well, in a fluent, accessible style. It's entertaining, moving, informative and uplifting, so you always want to find out what's on the next page. And she wisely steers well clear of the Higgs boson... 


Do you think I should be recommending the book to my bloggie friends then?

Definitely, Bertie, most definitely. Tell them to click here to find details about 'Maxdog' and how to order it. 

And I've been thinking Gail, if I am special too, why is there not a book about me?

Well Bertie you never know. One day there might just be! 

Sunday crowds

When I first arrived I thought I had Forvie beach all to myself...

But it turned out that wasn't the case at all.

Sympathy for bankers after my haircut...

Gail has warned me that today's title might be inflammatory.

Well I am a terrier, and it is not in my nature to back away from a confrontation.

You see, I heard this week, apropos the debt crisis in Greece, that the banks have been forced to have another haircut.

By an amazing co-incidence, I too have been enduring a haircut this week.

It is not my idea of fun.

To be strictly accurate, for the most part my hair is not cut, it is 'hand stripped' (by special stripping knife rather than literally by hand). Gail persists in the delusion that this is a skill she will eventually master. Meanwhile....

I have noticed that she has developed a strategy of starting with my neck area, then moving backwards. Now I will admit, it's quite a pleasant feeling, all that pressing and plucking action around the neck. A bit like a massage. One can feel relaxed. Having lulled me into a false sense of security, Gail then moves onto my black patch. This is not so relaxing, but Gail insists, "Oh it's worth it Bertie, think of all those people we meet who admire your markings and wonder how it is that your patches are black not grey like so many other wire-haired fox terriers".

Perhaps I should include a wee technical explanation here.

See this photo below. They are some of the old hairs Gail stripped from my back this afternoon.

See how the hairs change colour half way down. The tips are black and the root ends pale grey. If my hair were cut not stripped then the black would be all removed and my markings would be a boring grey colour. Which, as Gail says, would impress no-one.  Except perhaps the odd schnauzer owner.

Now I can't help but remark that it is Gail who basks in the glory from having a dog with a coat that other humans admire, and me who has to put up with all the tugging. "But Bertie" Gail says "you gain too, your beautiful glossy wiry coat is so much more waterproof for not having been sheared."

Well that's as maybe, but really there are limits to what one will tolerate, for vanity or weather resistance. 

When Gail moves on towards my nether regions, the stripping action is most uncomfortable, and I let her know it. At this point I am suspecting her of fantasizing that she is giving this sort of a 'haircut' to Sir Mr Fred Goodwin. 

Fortunately, before too long, she puts down the stripping knife and out come the scissors. Phew.

I wonder if my friends are put through all this malarkey?  

PS I asked Gail if she would take an 'after' photo of me, but she said, Bertie, the sad truth is, despite the fact I seem to have removed half a dog, you don't actually look that different. So I said, oh go on Gail, take one anyway. 

And here it is.

PS Gail would like to point out that all she is aiming for with Bertie's coat is a modicum of tidiness, and not a 'show grade' outcome!

Chicken liver brownies and more...

Well, contrary to the fears I expressed in the previous post, it turns out that being two years old is not so bad.

Here are some highlights from my birthday weekend (which I spent over at the Torridon cottage).

Gail baked me my very own utterly delicious 'Chicken Liver Brownie Birthday Cake'.

See me blowing out the candles there.

My dear friend Marie-Thérèse not only made a beautiful card,

But also gave me a super present, which I unwrapped, quite delicately, all by myself.


That important business completed, I went exploring outside in the freshly fallen snow.

Gail and I shared a joke*.

Then before we left I caught up on the local gossip with my Irish Terrier neighbour Dooley. These Irish lads do enjoy a good craic.

On the way back to Aberdeen, I galloped around by the sea in sunny Nairn, and made some brand new friends.


And there was also time for a spot of posing, as is expected of the good looking young male when he visits the beach.



Yes, all in all, I'm quite happy being two.

Oh and by the way, 'That List' proved most useful when we ran short of fuel for the wood burning stove...


*Thanks to Michael of Baclenbea for the photo. No that is NOT Michael of 'more irritating than the midges' notoriety.....