The perfect host?

We have two lovely ladies from the USA staying with us in Aberdeen right now. I am thinking that my canine pals might appreciate some tips on how to look after visitors from overseas.

I believe guests will always enjoy kisses and licks on their face while sipping their early morning coffee.

Then a trip up Royal Deeside to Balmoral Castle is of course a must, especially if the visitors are American. It is however a bit embarrassing if one's (English) owner consistently shows her ignorance when she is bombarded with questions about the British monarchy...

Back in Aberdeen, even the hardest working tour guide will deserve a break to play with canine friends down at the harbour mouth. 

(I am thinking that my later ball-stealing antics  at the beach - sadly unrecorded on camera - provided a highlight unmatched by all other tourist entertainments available in the Granite City. Imagine, I kept our friends amused for a whole twenty minutes while I evaded capture and refused to return my prize to its rightful owner...)

 

Oh and one more thing. Your guests will surely be thrilled if you insist they accompany you to your beginners' agility class and you make them stand around in a field for an hour swatting away the midges while they video the finer points of your performance.

Yes, I really think I've cracked this 'perfect host' business, don't you agree? 

Hippy Nelly?

You'll never believe who we encountered on a walk at Monadh Mor, near Inverness, last week. 

A long-haired WEIMARANER called NELLY! 

Has our friend from La Bretagne moved to Scotland and turned into a hippy?

Oh and if you are thinking that my lower limbs are looking less than perfectly snowy white in the picture above, then please blame my human for deciding to take me exploring an area described by Forestry Scotland as "One of the best places in Scotland to see rare bog woodland.... birch and pine trees here coexist in a finely balanced relationship with ponds, swamps and mosses."

So a "bog woodland" with "swamps", "ponds" etc. can result in muddy paws. Who knew? 

PS Gail's two American friends arrived yesterday for a twelve day visit and I suspect that I shall struggle to get help with my blog while they are here.

A tale of fragrant Whins

You don't have venture far in the British countryside at this time of year before you see a bush (or many) with spiny branches and vibrant yellow flowers. 

Gail grew up in England calling this shrub 'gorse'. I, Nobby, being Scots born, have sometimes to correct my human's terminology and this is a case in point. North of the Border, it is more commonly known as 'whin'. 

We saw lots of whin on our way across to the Torridon cottage this week. When the sun shines and the air is warm the flowers exude what Gail says is a lovely coconut-y fragrance. 

On arrival at the cottage, I immediately spotted another 'Whin' in the garden. This Whin is a pretty and playful Golden Retriever. She belongs to Phil, the nice man who helps Gail keep the garden under control. I find canine Whin's fragrance so much more appealing than that of the prickly plant for which she was named. 

Yes I do like Whin a lot*, although not so much that I would ever be prepared to give her my stick.

Happy Nature Friday friends!

*Gail says we "play nicely" together.

The calm before the storm?

Sometimes, when there's not much going on in our Aberdeen street, I take a break from guard duty at the front window and enjoy a wee nap.

Gail tells me that her first dog, Hamish the Westie, also used to doze off perched on the back of the sofa, but 'Bouncing' Bertie never even climbed up there.

Apparently, I should enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. Two of Gail's American friends, Marse and Nikki, arrive on Sunday for a 12 day visit. 

I am instructed to be on best behaviour throughout their stay....

Er, seriously? 

Masculinity and 'the snip'

I'm a bit worried that some of my friends might have seen those pictures of me in a pink frock last Friday and thought: "Oh dear, poor Nobby, it looks like he's gone all girlie since he had that little 'snip' back in February. Or maybe it's that, being at an impressionable age, he's been hearing too much discussion in the media about gender identity and is thinking of transitioning...".

Well, dear readers, I would like to reassure you this is very much NOT the case, and in every important respect, I am still ALL BOY.

It is true that, on my morning walk, I no longer feel the urge to pee on every single lamp post and tree trunk as I walk down our street. But please be aware, my motivation is that fewer stops mean I get to the park quicker and thus have more time to play boisterous games of rough and tumble with my park pals.

Shortly before my February day at the vet - about which I don't remember too much - Gail had confiscated my favourite toy, Sophie Snow Leopard, apparently on the basis that we were developing "too intimate a relationship" (whatever that's supposed to mean). 

Well I'm delighted to report that last week a freshly laundered Sophie reappeared in my toy box. Our relationship has evolved somewhat, but is no less exciting than before, as demonstrated in the video below.

So as you see, I am still confident and secure in my masculinity.

There will be no need for me to apply for one of those fast track Gender Recognition Certificates that our Scottish Government wants to introduce. And I promise you I will never ever again wear a Pink Frock.

Hand-me-down pink

For about two weeks each spring, our neighbourhood in Aberdeen is fifty shades of pink not grey. The cherry blossom is particularly fine this year. 

Gail suggested I take a leaf out of the book of our Nature Friday blog hosts, the LLB Gang, and wear a costume appropriate to the post.

To my surprise and utter horror, she dug a PINK DRESS out of the 'hand-me-downs from Bertie' bag and forced it over my head.

You will understand that I flatly refused to venture out in public and pose in front of a cherry tree wearing a frock...

I mean, it wasn't even ironed! 

PS Gail is wondering if any readers can remember the context in which Bertie wore this not very masculine garment? 

Back and all in one piece

I am pleased to report that Gail returned from her short break in Germany sound in body and limb. 

"What's so remarkable about that?" I hear my readers asking. Surely, she was just sightseeing with her American friend in Berlin and Dresden, which is by no stretch of the imagination a high risk activity. 

Well it turns out that an incident on the fast train to Dresden, in which three armed customs officers strode purposefully down the carriage and engaged in a long and tense debate with the two men on the seats right next to Marse and Gail and then arrested both men, apparently for possession of illegal drugs, was a wee bit unnerving, but was not in fact the most dangerous occurrence of the trip*. (I was just disappointed to learn that no sniffer dogs were involved.)

Dresden skyline

Far more alarming, on so many levels, was the news that Gail and Marse had actually participated in a dance class in Berlin. 

Marse's niece Soroa, pictured above with Marse, is in Berlin carving out a career in contemporary dance. Soroa performs and teaches at the 'Tanzfabrik' (dance factory). She invited her aunt and the English friend to take part in her 'Vibrant Body' class on Thursday morning and assured them no experience was necessary and the age range of participants was typically 20 to 70 years old.

I can't believe that Gail, who last attended a dance class, in which she learnt 'The Dashing White Sergeant', half a century ago, actually agreed, as did Marse. Brave or foolhardy?

So it seems the class involved lots of 'body awareness' exercises and moving around to music in a way that owed something to a Berlin nightclub experience. Gail and Marse, who, notwithstanding Soroa's earlier claims, were decades older that the other participants, emerged mightily relieved that they had not fallen over, crashed into anyone or injured themselves in any way.

Really, it's not safe to let one's human out of sight for even a moment, is it? (Readers of my predecessor Bertie's blog might remember what happened when Gail went to Russia and got caught up in a terrorist incident...)

Friends be reassured, as of tomorrow I am reclaiming my blog, and the next post will be all about me. Meanwhile, I have pinned Gail to her reclining chair and she is not going anywhere.

*Gail says: following this incident on the train, a rather revealing exchange took place between Gail (British), Marse (American), and the friendly lady (German) who was sat at the same table. Marse had apparently been scared that the scene would end up in a violent shoot out, and they might be caught in the cross-fire.  Gail and the German lady, both citizens of countries with very different gun cultures from the USA, had noted that the customs men were armed but were not particularly worried as it had not occurred to either of them that the weapons might actually be used, or that the men arrested might also be carrying guns.

Showing up my owner?

You won't believe what Gail said when she came home from her trip to Berlin with her American friend Marse.

"Oh Nobby, I am so relieved. Marse has been telling me all about her two year old rescue Kelpie DB*, who now lives with her in Tacoma. Apparently he can be quite badly behaved. So now I'm not so worried you'll show me up when Marse comes to stay here with us at the end of the month."

It's hard to imagine, isn't it, that I might in any way show Gail up?

Apparently DB (pictured below) barks and howls a lot in the car and at visitors, shreds a bagful of toys a week, pulls heavily on the lead, pees on the basement floor, demands attention all the time and commits any amount of mischief. 

So totally unlike me, then.

Gail claims she had a good time in Berlin, despite not seeing any wire-haired fox terriers (I guess that's why she took so few photos).  She did see plenty of other dogs, often unleashed and calmly trotting along beside their humans, and she marvelled at the pups' obedience and excellent road sense. I guess it would be wrong here to bring up tired stereotypes about Germans, and by extension their pets, tending to be orderly types.

Meanwhile I, Nobby, had a wonderful stay on the farm, running around with my Craigmancie foxy relatives. I even was able to spend extra time with them as Gail couldn't pick me up early on Saturday as planned 'cos her car wouldn't start, but that's another story.

I guess I was pleased to see Gail when she finally got the car sorted, even if she uttered the dreaded word 'bath' the minute she set eyes on me...

That's me, Nobby, in the middle, with litter mate Biddy standing behind

*DB stand for Da Boss.

Bluebells and pigs and this and that

It's been a busy week here in the Nobby and Gail household, and I'm afraid all I have to show you for Nature Friday is a photo of me posing nicely on a bank of newly blooming bluebells. 

I was of course careful not to crush too many. 

Oh, and maybe the daffodils behind me and my foxie friends at Crathes Castle last Sunday qualify? (That's me, second from left, sniffing the grass.)

Gail thinks readers might to like to see some pictures of a bunch of somnolent pigs she cycled past earlier in the week. I was not present. Perhaps the porkers would have acted a bit livelier had I been around to bark at them...

A brief consultation with our vet friend Kirsty confirmed that the pigs are Gloucester Old Spots (spotty, of course), Tamworths (rusty brown), and maybe a mix of the two. 

The really exciting news of the week has nothing to do with nature, but I'm going to tell you anyway.  I am now formally enrolled in the Beginners' Class at Deeside Dog Agility Club. Gail used to train with Bertie there, and on Tuesday night she was warmly welcomed back into the fold and her old friends tried to remember to call me Nobby not Bertie. 

You will be doubtless hearing more about my agility antics in weeks to come. Although not next week, as Gail is apparently off to Berlin for five days to meet up with her American friend Marse and Marse's niece/goddaughter Soroa*, and I am going to stay with the relatives at Craigmancie Foxies. 

Oh dear, and it seems I've run out of space to talk about a big royal event that is happening down in London on Saturday...

*Soroa is attached to the Tanzfabrik studio/school in Berlin. You can read more about her dancing career if you click here  and you might, like Gail, begin to sense the existence of a parallel universe, far removed from our unexceptional life in Aberdeen...

Normal service will resume in a week. Meanwhile, do go and visit all the other Nature Friday posts in the LLB Gang's blog hop.

Faulty Feet / Perfect Paws

I can only conclude that human feet are poorly designed.

My dear human has been complaining about how she bought herself a new pair of supposedly robust and high quality hiking shoes less than a year ago and the soles are now wearing out and the uppers coming apart at the seams. 

And she says it's the fault of a certain adorable young wire-haired fox terrier.

Apparently my "high exercise demands" are to blame. 

Well I would like to point out that my own perfectly formed paws have had no need of expensive footwear, and can easily cope with longer and longer daily walks in all conditions, absolutely, no problem at all.

Perhaps Gail should try going barefoot? 

Not squatters after all...

For a brief moment I was most alarmed when we arrived at the Torridon cottage last week. It appeared that squatters had taken up residence.

While Gail hastily intervened as I was about to lift a half eaten bar of chocolate from a bag left on the floor, the front door opened and in walked the 'intruders'. 

Happily it turned out that it was our dear friends M and J, using the cottage for a short break away from Aberdeen. I greeted M with a level enthusiasm appropriate to a known bearer of dog treats, while J kept a safe distance. 

It is always possible, when guests are present, that they have not been told those tedious 'house rules' about not feeding the dog from the table. I waited patiently, but in vain, next morning as our friends enjoyed their breakfast. 

Later, after M and J had departed the sunshine appeared and it was time to inspect the garden. 

And then to help Gail dig holes and plant out the azaleas she'd purchased from Cottage Garden Nursery* near Poolewe.

*Gail says: This delightful place sells a huge range of plants, specialising in varieties resilient to weather conditions in the NW of Scotland. Whether the plants are also resilient to being pulled out of the soil after planting and dragged across the lawn by a very NAUGHTY fox terrier before being put back in place, remains to be seen...