A new bag

Do you like this gift our friend A-M kindly gave Gail as a thank you for helping her during and after her recent hospital stay?

It's a very fine bag, don't you think?

And not only is it big enough to carry a satisfactory quantity of dog treats, it will also serve as a reminder to Gail that I am now well overdue a train trip down to England, or at least to Edinburgh or Glasgow or somewhere similarly exotic. I gather my predecessor Bouncing Bertie once greatly enjoyed his brief exploration of the railway station in Newcastle upon Tyne.... Time for a return visit perhaps?

Gail says that problems on the railways due to intermittent strikes have deterred her from pursuing my 'train training' over the past couple of years, but it's my understanding that the industrial strife is now all resolved and so WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?

A Very Special Anniversary!

Well done to Cecilia and to Paca! You both guessed correctly in your comments on my Monday post.

Today, 26th September 2024, is indeed the 25th Anniversary of Gail becoming a dog owner for the first time in her life.

It was just 4 months after she'd moved (for work) from London to Aberdeen, and from an upstairs flat to a house with an enclosed garden less than a mile from her office, and she decided it was time to satisfy a life long yearning and acquire a dog. 

As a child, her only pet had been a much loved guinea pig called Arthur. Friends and relatives had dogs and Gail thought she knew quite a lot about them, but really she didn't! 

She saw an advert for a three year old Westie in the local newspaper, phoned the owner, a farmer from near Fraserburgh whose accent Gail found impenetrable but was too embarrassed to admit it. She did figure out that the dog's name was Hamish and he was staying with the farmer's brother in Aberdeen, and she arranged to go to see him. 

This is Gail's diary entry for 26th September 1999 (you can enlarge the image).

For those of you who can't decipher Gail's handwriting, the short version is that Hamish came to live with Gail there and then. Yes there were some 'challenging' moments in the very early days, but Gail says she never regretted her decision. 

Here is Hamish in November 1999, down in Nottingham for a visit to Gail's parents (both sadly no longer alive). I wonder if  her Dad, then a youthful looking 78 years old, was entirely happy to have Hamish plonked on his lap?

Hamish lived with Gail for over a decade, and in his later years started a blog called, of course, Hamish the Westie, which is still live on the internet.

He had a calm temperament, a good 'starter dog' Gail says, albeit one with a hefty dose of that Westie stubbornness so typical of his breed.....

In 2010, when Hamish was coming to the end of his life, Gail could not imagine she would ever be able to find space in her heart for another dog. But after he was gone, she realised that a dog-shaped hole in the house badly needed filling, and in fairly short order there came a new puppy, Bouncing Bertie, whom many readers will remember well.

And after Bertie, in 2022, me! 

Respecting the autumn crocuses. Or not.

Here I am, on the weekend of the autumn equinox, at my favourite spot in our Torridon garden, admiring the delicate autumn crocuses. 

Gail tells me that the ashes of my predecessor-but-one, Hamish the Westie, are buried under the crocuses, and so she's pleased I am showing this spot due respect. 

When alive, Hamish loved to sit here, staring out at the water and in fact failing entirely to respect these lovely mauve blooms. Gail says he would plonk his sturdy frame right down on top of them if she didn't quickly intervene.

It's so nice to be in Torridon this weekend, enjoying perhaps the final few days of our spell of warm, sunny weather. Our little corner of paradise seems lovelier than ever just now, after last week's trip down to Ayrshire for the agility show. In the interests of openness and transparency, I must tell you that, although immediate environs of the event and the park where we found YAM-aunty were pleasant enough, the town of Ayr itself is now close to the head of Gail's list of 'most dismal places in Scotland', vying for top spot with Wick in the far north-east and assorted rather dreary satellite towns surrounding Glasgow in the Central Belt.

Back to Torridon. The leaves are starting to turn and the summer swarms of jellyfish have departed from the little beach near the cottage, so one no longer has to watch carefully where one treads at low tide! 

PS Do join us on Thursday, when I will be helping Gail celebrate a very special 25th anniversary. Can you guess what it is? 

The truth about early morning walks

Today I would like to clear up a potential misapprehension regarding the daily routine in the Gail and Nobby household. 

Here are some photos from my early morning walk yesterday (Thursday).

I suspect that those of my readers who live in hot parts of the world might be thinking thus:  "How considerate of Gail to take Nobby out for a walk first thing, when the sun is low in the sky and the temperatures relatively cool. We would hate to think of him frying in the midday heat."

It is true that this week has been unusually warm and dry for a Scottish September.

But it is most certainly not the case that the weather here gets so hot that a lively WFT would not want to go out for a run, whatever the time of day. Frying in the heat is not a thing in Aberdeen.

The truth is that I am not averse to the occasional lie-in, and the main reason I am 'encouraged' out of the house at the crack of dawn every Thursday morning is so Gail can spend the better part of the day joining her friends for a bike ride through the beautiful Aberdeen countryside while I am left home alone.

The cycling ladies take a break for elevenses at Midmar on Thursday morning

So now you know the truth.. 

I hope all my friends who take part in Nature Friday have been enjoying nice weather and fun outings this week! 

Kidnap risk?

Gosh there are already so many matters to worry about in today's world. I really didn't need another thing to add the list. 

On Monday morning, on the way back from our weekend in Ayr, Gail and I stopped for a leg stretch in the small town of Auchterarder, and I was most concerned to see this warning sign on the main street.

Yes you read it right: "Skinny People Are Easy To Kidnap. Stay Safe. Eat Cake."

Well, my owner Gail is not exactly skinny, but she is relatively thin and now I'm all anxious that she might fall into the 'kidnap-vulnerable' category. 

Who would feed me and take me for walks and give me morning cuddles if she were to be taken hostage? 

How ever would I raise the ransom?

Oh dear. It seems the only way I can mitigate the risk is by encouraging her to up her cake consumption. 

More pies apparently might also do the trick...

So that's Gail's winter diet sorted!