Bertie expands his vocabulary (with Robert Jay QC)

I hope my regular readers will by now have realised that, with Gail's assistance, I attempt to uphold the highest standards of written English on this blog. After all, there are plenty of other places on the internet if you are looking for illiterate and dumbed down versions of the language.

This week I decided it was time to expand my vocabulary, and Gail helpfully pointed me to a video she found on the Guardian website, produced in the wake of the publication of the 'Leveson Report' (an inquiry into the culture, practices and ethics of the press) and featuring the lead counsel to the inquiry.

It is titled 'Learn to speak like Robert Jay QC'.
Now sadly, Lord Justice Leveson's report did not tackle the challenging topic of Internet ethics, a subject which will be of much concern to my fellow canine bloggers, who so frequently suffer the indignity of being photographed while in bath, enduring treatment at the vets, or when dressed in ridiculous outfits purely for the entertainment of their humans.

Time to put that right.

And now that you have watched the video you will have absolutely no difficulty understanding any of the following.

First, I want to adumbrate any potential criticism of this post by emphasising that the topic of invasion of privacy on the internet is neither nugatory nor recondite, and lies squarely within the bailiwick of this blogger. The propinquity of pups to their human carers, the invention of the digital camera and the widespread availability of broadband services are all deleterious to preserving canine confidentiality. Adventitious occurrences of an embarrassing nature can be captured on camera and instantly broadcast  across the globe. One can pelucidly voice one's objections until the cows come home, but the roads to justice are frequently occluded and condign punishments of the perpetrators are, regrettably, seldom enforced...

I hope that's all clear now...

Surely I should have been Jeeves?

I guess most of you know that I was named after Bertie Wooster, the fictional character created by P.G.Wodehouse.

There comes a time in a chap's life when he starts to wonder if his name is really apt.

Gail says she chose it 'cos Bertie Wooster always makes her smile, and so do I. Furthermore, she claims that we two Berties have much in common, both being prone to getting into scrapes but never failing to bounce back, enthusiasm undimmed, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for our next ill thought out adventure. Oh and that neither of us has a mean bone in his body.

Well I have been going into the subject in more depth and I can't help but feel Gail made a mistake with her somewhat superficial approach to name selection. Indeed I am quite upset to learn that this young Wooster is much given to alcoholic excess and short-lived engagements to unsuitable females. He has dodgy taste in clothing, an array of fearsome aunts and, worst of all, is described as possessing 'negligible mental powers'.

If only Gail had chosen to name me after a different and altogether more estimable inhabitant of Wodehouse's fictional England.

And no Gail, I am not thinking of Gussie Fink-Nottle, Bertie's Drones Club chum who keeps newts and has a face like a fish.

Nor am I thinking of Lord Emsworth, whose deepest emotional attachment is to his prize-winning pig.

That is so not funny.

We all know perfectly well I am talking about the masterful Jeeves, in theory Bertie's servant but without question a person of superior intellect, tact and subtly creative problem solving abilities.

Yes I think Jeeves would have been a quite splendid and fitting name.

Gail, please explain why are you laughing at me, again.

The right decision

Us dogs get to know our humans pretty well don't we?

So I think you can trust me to give you an accurate report of Gail's thought processes first thing Saturday morning. Here goes:

"Hmmm, I suppose I really should go Christmas shopping today, so I don't end up rushing around in a last minute panic once again. Oh dear but the shops will be terribly busy and anyway I haven't a clue what to buy, everyone has too many things already don't they? And it would be a shame to waste a nice bright day by being indoors. One needs to soak up every possible ray of sun at this time of year -  they say rickets is on the increase 'cos folk stay inside too much. Plus Darren Bett on the BBC forecast heavy rain for Scotland tomorrow. And then there's Bertie. I really owe him a good long walk, after sending him off to kennels last weekend. See him sat there looking at me with that adorable, optimistic, trusting little face. Yes, the Christmas stuff can wait. But where to go? It's so muddy everywhere at the moment...(thinks for a minute or two).  I know, we'll visit the Forvie Nature Reserve. The ground by the coast is sandy and well drained. And the terns aren't nesting at this time of year, so the dune area won't be closed off. The wind today is light, so no danger of Bertie getting sand grains blown in his eyes on the beach. If we complete the circuit of the Reserve - estuary, dunes, beach, cliff path and back - that's at least seven miles, so Bertie might even be a bit tired by the end. Yes that's what we'll do, better get going, it's a thirty minute drive and we've only a few hours before it's dark again..."

All in all, I think we can congratulate Gail on a good decision. As for presents, there's always Amazon gift vouchers.

But I must say she was wrong about the (lack of) mud.

Call me Usain ...

To be running fast and free is absolutely the greatest feeling of all, don't you think?

A stretch of open ground lies ahead. The click of your lead being released is as a starting gun to Usain Bolt. Instantly you break into a vigorous, joyful sprint and, better than any Olympic gold, your prize is to be young, bursting with animal energy, unrestrained.

It's not about the chase (that is a different pleasure).

It's about the feel of the wind lifting your ears as your paws pass swift and light over the soft grass, limbs at full stretch, powered by your finely muscled haunches.

And your owner smiles in pure delight, all troubles set aside, bewitched as ever by your lithe and graceful movement.