Off with his head.

As my readers will undoubtedly remember I had the privilege, nay the honour, of showing Raffa and her mum around London before Christmas last year.Ok, Lenny and my parents came along to carry bags and pay for coffee and buns, but I did most of the work on the day. We had a lovely day and saw so many places that Lenny and I slept like the proverbial logs on the tube journey home.

When I woke up the next day I realised that Raffa hadn’t ticked off all the sights she wanted to see. We had missed seeing a Yeoman of the Guard, also known as a Beefeater.

Nearly all ticked off.

This bugged me for quite some time in the weeks and months that followed. Mum and dad could see there was something preoccupying me and we decided we would do something about it. We wanted it to be a surprise for Raffa and her mum. Sadly Raffa then made her longest journey to the Rainbow Bridge. This only strengthened my resolve to finish Raffa’s tick list. We decided to try and contact the Tower of London people to see if they could help us. I dictated an email for dad to send to the Tower of London and we waited to see if there would be a reply. To our surprise we got a really fast response which said they would be only too pleased to help us and we should correspond further to make arrangements. Once dad had made concrete plans, I had to rein in my enthusiasm until the day I could escort dad on the tube back into London. We had to be quite quick as the pandemic was beginning to affect travel and people so we knew we wouldn’t have much time.

The day arrived and we were on our toes early towards the station. Onto the train, and before we knew it, we were through Marylebone and heading to the park. I had done it a few times before. I felt like a professional commuter.

Dad, can we make this train go faster?

We successfully negotiated the tube journey and found ourselves looking out at the Tower of London. Suddenly my ears were being tickled by a tall gentleman in a colourful coat and hat. Yeoman Sergeant Towell was standing smiling and we went off for the photo to be taken. Whilst the picture was being taken we had a chat with him. He was very welcoming and generous with his time, given that there were still some people who also wanted his help in being shown around the Tower. He was a beagle owner previously and also told us that there is a beagle who lives in the Tower, but I didn’t get to meet him. It was great fun and I walked back to the tube station with a spring in my step.

This is for you Raffa.

Within a couple of days, the pandemic intervened and it took some time to get a nice frame for the photo which we would send to Raffa’s mum. We hoped she would be happy that we had completed Raffa’s tick list. I gave the picture a kiss and we sent it off. Now we had to wait to hear if we had done the right thing.

We had, Raffa’s mum loved the picture. Phew. She said it was wonderful and lovely and was a fitting reminder of the day. Phew once more. We couldn’t let you down by not finishing the postcard, Raffa.

We must say thank you to the Tower of London as they were unbelievably helpful and happy to help us at short notice.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Lenny

Wake up wake up, it’s gone 6 am and the squirrels are running amok in the grounds. Ok, they’re not actually running amok but mum and dad didn’t know and we could have stopped a squirrel invasion. I got Lenny to leap on dads kidneys so he had no excuse to go back to sleep. Up and at them, come on.

We were soon in our harnesses and exploring the lanes and byways around Pednor, with the sun on our fur and our scent receptors close to the ground. As we went along the lane, the rabbits scattered for their burrows and the squirrels hid in their trees, sadly out of our reach. Upon reaching the dingley dell on the corner of the road, we decided we would take the parents along Herberts Hole as there was a better chance of getting some good baying off our chests with the critters that live in the hedgerows. Birds, squirrels and rodents made their escape as we wandered along, having great fun. Apparently I sound like one of those steam trains you see and hear in old films, when I am on the trail of prey. Anyway, we got most of the way down the track and mum decided she had to return home to do something called ‘work’. Nope, I have no idea what it is either. So, we turned around and headed home.

Back at home and after breakfast we were allowed out into the garden again as the sun was still shining and there were various horticultural chores that needed to be started and finished. It was such a peaceful morning with Lenny and I wandering around, sniffing, lazing on the grass and playing the odd bit of snout jousting. He seemed to be quite calm as we lay near each other, thinking about where we could drag mum and dad tomorrow morning.

What a lovely day for some nefarious activity

Then it started. The glint in his eye, the slight wry smile, the malevolent sideways glance to see if I was concentrating. He woofed to me that he was off to chew a stick so off he toddled. You could almost see the little halo above his head, he looked so innocent. My canine senses told me there was malice afoot however and I made myself ready to repel boarders. I was right, quick as a flash he was on to me, teeth glinting in the sun, eyes reddened from his transformation into a devil of the night and his paws standing on my ears whilst his teeth went to work on my face. He had pinned me down ready to inflict the final chomp on my jugular vein. However he didn’t account for my saviour, in the shape of a dad shaped object advancing up the garden to prise us apart and save my ears and neck from looking like a kitchen colander. “Off! Leave him alone!” called dad. And suddenly Lenny was running googley eyed around the garden arooing at his perceived victory over me. I got ear tickles whilst dad made sure I hadn’t been perforated and then he told me to “stop encouraging Lenny”. Forget the perforated ears, they were shocked and stunned ears. As I looked past dad, I saw Lenny down the garden once again wandering around quietly eating revolting stuff and looking for worm casts to roll in. How could he be so different so quickly?

Ow ow, get off. Hee hee.

I had held him off, just, and I live to tell the tale. Innocent, my paw.

I shall chew a stick and await my next victim.

Still love him though. He is my brother after all.

Booster time

It all started very normally today.

We jumped on dad at six to make sure he couldn’t sleep in. We watched as mum woke up, gave us a tickle and a kiss on the head, and then disappeared to put the kettle on. After all this excitement we wandered out into the garden for a spot of squirrel bothering and returned to the kitchen door to find dad wandering around making tea and generally mumbling to himself. Nothing different thus far.

Lenny went out with dad and I went out with mum. I am going for shorter walks over the last few days as I have been limping a little on my front left paw. The consensus is that I have strained my wrist through shenanigans in the garden, thanks to Lenny. Anyway, I am ok but I only need a shorter walk of three miles or so. We bumped into Lenny and dad whilst we were out on patrol, although they walked on further than we did. I had an inkling from listening to mum and dad that there was something different today. I was to prove to be correct.

When they returned Lenny had the usual silly grin on his face as he had eaten fox and bird droppings and was quite proud that dad hadn’t seen him. However, dad had seen him and wasn’t impressed. Nor was dad quick enough to retrieve said items from Lenny’s teeth which seems to be why Lenny was so happy with himself. We had some breakfast and then went off for some snoozing. After a while we heard dad on the phone saying “Yes he’s fine, we cannot think of anything that he is suffering from, no illness or injury, he just seems really healthy and happy”. This could only mean one thing, and I was keeping my muzzle shut so it would be a nice surprise for Lenny. I knew I was right when the harness made a reappearance and Lenny was duly clipped up and taken out of the door for another walk. I need to hand over to Lenny at this point as he can tell you what happened next.

Wotcha everyone. I had a great walk around Pednor this morning and then I got harnessed up again for another walk. Sadly it was with dad, but you cant win them all, right? We wandered off up the hill and I was being cajoled to keep a reasonable pace. It was almost as if there was an appointment which needed to be kept. What could it be? Where could I be going? Anyway, up the hill with all the traffic whizzing past us way too fast and then a little diversion through the woods at the top of the road. I wanted to smell squirrels and chase rabbits but dad decided otherwise. Come on he said, we’ve got somewhere to go. Into the town and down a small road I wandered, eventually finding myself in a carpark outside a building. There was a bench with a crate on it, and a lead tied around a bike rack. Dad was asked to attach me to the lead and a very nice lady in a blue uniform came out to greet us.

“Hello” she said. “You must be Lenny” and I got a head scratch. Dad reminded her that I sometimes snatch at food so “if they are going to distract me for injections, do it with an open hand”. Hang on, injections, what is this place. I was whisked inside and saw dad outside waiting for me. I was weighed (13.1 kilos) and then prodded, poked squeezed around the ribs, had my teeth checked and to cap it all had an injection. I don’t know where I was jabbed as I was being distracted by some tasty food. I will tell Dex that it was a huge javelin and I was really brave and didn’t squeal. Apparently he squeals and wriggles if he knows there is a tiny needle coming his way. Before I knew it, I was back outside and the vet told dad “He was so polite when we distracted him, you’ve clearly been working on this at home” Dad said thank you and he was pleased I was a good boy. I don’t think he’d seen the fees for it yet!

So there I was, strolling back through the town and thence through the woods. We detoured down a nice quiet road with some very nice houses with lovely big gardens which were probably full of squirrels. We didn’t stop! As we got closer to home I was flagging but perked up when I saw the house. In the front door, and I had so much to tell Dex. He was aghast and agog at my bravery when challenged by the huge javelin sized needle. I need to hand you back to Dex, sorry.

When he arrived back Lenny told me about the massive spear that he had braved at the vets. I told him I had known where he was going and he said that he had to return as this was only the first booster and he needs another. I think he thinks its going to be another fun trip. To celebrate, we whizzed around the garden and then collapsed into heaps in our beds. He was snoring as his head touched the side of his (my old) bed.

Ssshhh, sleepy pupster

He’s very brave is Lenny. I would have squealed and wriggled at the sight of the needle.

He must be expawsted

I think I will let him sleep it off. He’s had some adventures today, walked eight miles, had breakfast, dinner, two training sessions and been to the vets. Phew, I need to go and lie down as I am exhausted thinking about it all.

Love, life and Loss

As many may know I am on Twitter and I am blessed to have many accounts that follow me on there. When I joined it was, predominantly, to obtain some guidance from other beagle owners as to traits, behaviour and general information that I could relate to my parents about looking after me. From a few chats here and there in the beginning, it has thankfully blossomed and I can count many good friends and confidantes amongst the furs and people I talk to.

One of the first friends I “met” on there is Seb who isnt a Beagle but a Border Terrier (BT) who was kind and thoughtful when we communicated and I was after some information. He is part of the BT Posse, a group of like minded Border Terriers and their owners who, like the BeagleBug Club, look out for each other when things are good, bad, sad or someone is just having a bad day. As a Beagle, I was allowed to become an honorary member of the BT Posse, and I am extremely proud to be associated with them. The owners are very much along the same lines as the beagle owners that I know, in that you can ask them something and generally you will get a true and honest response. They don’t do politics, they don’t do trolling, they don’t do abuse and they really are a band of like minded people and dogs who want to get on with one another and help each other out.

One man and his faithful dog.

Some will tell you that Twitter is just a place for trolls and nasty spiteful people, who’s intention is to be harmful. If you look deeply enough you will inevitably find those accounts, where it is just politics and spiteful or racist rhetoric. Equally, if you look for the friendship that can be found within other “communities” on there, you can find the gentle and friendly guidance and companionship of people who seek to be pleasant.

Today Seb went to the Rainbow Bridge. He had just celebrated his sixteenth birthday. He let all his pals know what was going to happen and asked them “not to be sad but to remember he has been so lucky to have an amazing life, he has met so many wonderful friends and he has two people who have put him first and loved him more than anything”. Everything I seek to achieve is contained within this sentence.

Rest easy Seb.

Run free Seb, and rest easy. Farewell Sir. We shall meet again one day but in the meantime, shine brightly in the night sky. You are, and will be, sorely missed by many.

Pulling our parents around Pednor

We only went and had another adventure this morning. I suppose it helped our cause that we jumped up and down on dad at 6 am. We made sure he couldn’t lay in bed and be lazy. We were then released into the garden early and chased off the squirrels who dared to play on the premises whilst we were sleeping. The first half of our breakfast was served and then we were duly harnessed up to our various parents. For my sins I was attached to mum so I knew I had to behave.

Out of the house and along the lane, across the road and down past the river with the rock snake (a snake like line of rocks not an actual scary serpent). We went past the pub and then towards the paradise of a nice quiet walk around the lanes of Pednor, sniffing the rabbits and squirrels as we went. As it happens, there was a road closure so cars were being redirected down our nice quiet lane. What a liberty, do people not realise we had walks to do. Anyway, we continued over the little hill and checked out every single hedge and tussock of grass for scents of rabbit and squirrel. Sadly we didn’t manage to spot the rabbits playing in the field. We found out the rabbits were there because mum and dad saw them and “forgot” to tell us.

Rabbit Central, next stop

We decided to turn left at the bottom of the lane. We had arrived at the strangely named Herberts Hole. No one seems to know how it came by its name but I am pleased we know where it is, as it’s traffic free and the views are very pleasant.

Fields of Barley & poppies

We walked past the old barn and then up to the next junction where we could have climbed up the path to Blind Lane. However dad was still feeling a bit lazy so we decided to stroll back along Herberts Hole to the road.

This is fun.

We turned right and then left through the gate and onto the diagonal path across the two fields. As we went into the second field the horses were mooching about, eating grass and generally doing horse type things. Lenny shook to show them he was friendly. I think they just ignored him. I try to do the same, but he usually bites me to attract my attention. At this point we spotted about twenty rabbits who scattered very quickly as Lenny decided to test the bungee strength on the lead. Dad wasn’t for moving though.

Out of the gate and turn right back onto the lane. I gave Lenny the nod to warn him we were on the way home and he duly applied the beagle brakes. Sadly for us dad is a bit more impatient than mum and we tend to find ourselves moving a bit quicker than we would prefer. So it was back past the pub and within a far too short period we were at home, just in time to run around the garden chasing each other and getting very dirty paws. Again, we had beaten the 9 am time limit for our shenanigans. Today though we were content to be back early as the sun was out and the weather was really rather warm.

Do you think they’re watching us?

Where shall we go next? Will we have fun? I suspect I already know the answer to the second question.

Fun in the sun

Introspection has had its time. Whilst I enjoy thinking about things I also enjoy having a good walk and snooter about in some of my favourite places.

This morning I was shackled to mum so Lenny had the pleasure of walking around the fields with the immovable object, aka dad. A quick check to make sure the coast was clear for social distancing and we were on our way. “Let them decide which way they want to go”, says mum. A wink and a woof with Lenny and we decide to go the fields. There will be plenty of deer, rabbit and squirrel trails there. Its Monday morning and the trails will be fresh.

Turn left and along the footpath, then left again, through the trees and sit at the road like the good boys we are. Through the gate and into the first field. Breathe in. Smell the scents, the heady aroma of fun and frolicsome adventures. And let the daily pulling on the lead session begin!

The hills will be alive with the sound of arooo.

Around the first field and then straight on through the second, left at the hedgerow and we get the first refusal from mum as we want to go along the tree line where we know the best deer scents are and we do our best baying. We are told some guff about it being early and waking up half the town when we smell the deer so we are forced to turn right. Sadly for mum, we smell it anyway as we skirt the barley in the field. The hill is alive with the sound of aroooo. I’m sure there’s a song in there somewhere. To the next hedge, turn left, then right at the other end to make sure we cover both sides of it much to the exasperation of mum and dad.

Let’s go this way then the other.

Thence to the big field, the mile field, the best field as it holds the most scents and we can bay away. We can also shark our way through the barley, which bends and springs back once we have woven our way through on the trail of mice and small critters. As we emerge every now and then, we have wet bonces which makes mum and dad laugh at our “stupidity”. Also our silly grins confirm we are enjoying ourselves.

Dex Dex, there’s mice in here.

Out of the field and we are suddenly at the top of “Squirrel Alley”. This is more usually known as Penn Grove and a wander through always provides the fun of chasing the little furries back up their trees. We are not sure mum and dad enjoy it as much though, slipping on the loose gravel as we pull and yank in so many different directions at the same time. I was particularly impressed with Lenny’s “pancaking” this morning. His ability to splay all four legs and lower his trajectory to almost scrape his belly, in pursuit of the elusive squirrel, was admirable, as was his ability to kick up dirt and gravel all over dad. Oh my, how we laughed.

Once we realise we are on our way back, I give Lenny the nod and he starts to apply the “Beagle Brakes” so the return is slowed considerably, much to the frustration of our staff who need to get back as they have “things to do”. The brakes are applied more readily as we get closer to home but we then speed up again when we realise we are going through Duck Alley (this one is actually called Duck Alley). I always leap into the river for a cooling paddle, whilst Lenny usually dips his toe nails and stands in the mud along the edges. Yesterday he managed a full “up to his belly” stroll through the river although mum did have to go in as well, in her wellies. Through the little wood and back to our house for food and shenanigans around the garden. All before 9 am.

We are lucky to have this on our doorstep. We will always enjoy it. I wonder where we will go tomorrow.

To see or not to see

I have a dilemma. It’s about rescue dogs, although it could be about rescue cats, rabbits, monkeys, rats or mice. In fact it could be any animal which has been rescued from harm, cruelty or abuse either in an abusive location, a “testing” facility or one of those dreadful meat farms or bear bile farms. I am not thinking particularly about furs that have been voluntarily surrendered for instance due to illness or change in circumstances where there are no nefarious activities suspected or perpetuated.

Most people are aware that furs can be, unfortunately, abused. We are physically and mentally traumatised and often times discarded and left for dead in all sorts of places. My fur cousin Minnie, for instance, was found tied to a tree in the middle of Epping Forest in Essex. Thankfully she was spotted, rescued and now lives a wonderful life with love and fun surrounding her. She is a lucky one.

The lovely Minnie, my fur cousin.

My brother Lenny was rescued from Cyprus by the wonderful ladies of Cyprus Beagles who sent him to the UK and he is now also loved very much, despite his tendency to bite me regularly. We don’t know how he was treated before he was rescued. We think he was initially going to be a hunting dog but either escaped or was deemed unsuitable so was just discarded. He doesn’t seem to have any irrational fears although he does bark at people on bicycles as well as people who carry rucksacks.

I’ve got your back, Lenny.

Anyway onto the point of all this. There was a video on one of the accounts I follow on Twitter. I watched a little pup being rescued from the middle of a waste water system, possibly somewhere on the West Coast of North America. The little chap was emaciated, frightened, mangey, had discharge from one of his eyes and generally looked pretty beaten up. The kind people rescued him, took him to the vet and when they took x-rays it looked like he had also been shot with a pellet gun. The vet fixed him up, the people gave him plenty of baths, cleaned his eyes, fed him and generally gave him love and cuddles. He’s now in a happy home. Many people commented on the post, expressing their sadness, their anger and asking if the little chap was now ok. The comment that made me wonder was “I just fast forwarded to the ending”.

Herein lies my dilemma. If people know about the abuse, and they see how it happened even without the graphic part of the actual abuse, are they in a better position to do something about it? If people “know of” the abuse and avoid actually seeing the condition and trauma of the relevant dog before the good bit at the end, are they doing themselves and the dog somewhat of a dis-service? I don’t mean that in a horrible way as I know that there are people who do not like seeing violence or injuries inflicted upon humans or animals . I completely understand that. Let’s be honest it isn’t very pleasant.

Some of the videos floating around the internet just cheapen and glorify the terrible condition of the fur involved. Other videos show the triumph over initial adversity suffered by the person or fur which usually makes our hearts sing and we feel happy. But without seeing the initial adversity, how do we know what has happened in each instance and thereby invoke our rage, fear or concern? I suppose I am wondering if people are aware of the abuse or if there is a perception that abuse happens so it must be bad and “I don’t need to see it”. Maybe people have seen it and been so upset by it, they don’t want to see it again. All are valid and completely understandable.

I know I am going on a bit however I would like to give one example. Beagles in laboratories. Pretty much everyone knows that some of my beagle brothers and sisters are routinely tested on for all sorts of “reasons” from making us inhale stuff, to squirting stuff in our eyes, burning us to test creams and lotions and testing our vital organs whilst we are conscious. All pretty awful and I am thankful that I was not a laboratory beagle. However what people don’t usually know is that, in some facilities, they cut our vocal cords to stop us crying out in pain when they’re doing these experiments upon us. Not all places but some certainly use this practice. There are companies that breed us specifically for use within a laboratory environment, with beagles living in wire cages and never seeing grass, smelling fresh air or running around playing. At the end of our useful life often we are killed. I could say euthanised but that puts a pretty glow on it for me. Do people actually know what goes on in these terrible places?

I wish all furs were happy!

I am not sure if I have explained what I really feel in this blog. There isn’t really an answer to this conundrum for me. I apologise if I upset people by bringing up a sad and horrible subject. I shall go back to watching over Lenny to make sure he is safe and loved.

Quarantine quandary

I was going to say there hasn’t been much going on here, but I have been thinking again. Life has been taking place, albeit in a more cosseted and restricted manner. Since the passing of Gracie Mae to the Rainbow Bridge, there doesn’t seem to be that much of importance to report. I did wonder how I could follow such a sad post but then I thought that I shouldn’t be following it. It occurred to me that this ongoing quarantine time has taught Lenny and I to look up and around us when we are on our walk, or even when we are in the garden. Again I know I am lucky to have a garden and to be able to walk each day in the fields and lanes which are nearby my home. It has taught us that our friends, both furry and human are precious.

Brothers in arms

Our walks have been a little more restricted in recent times as regular readers will be aware. We would love to go on the tube train and explore further afield or maybe go into the capital so I can show Lenny around a little more. We haven’t even got in the car and driven to fields and woods outside of our town. There is so much to explore and maybe I am becoming a little impatient to show places to Lenny. I know I have to curb my enthusiasm somehow. In any case, we don’t have face coverings so we aren’t really allowed on the tube, are we? As a result of our quarantine we have been limited in our range of places to exercise and now the routes we walk are getting a little bit duller each day. I am not going stir crazy just yet, but I fear I am on the slippery slope.

We did a quick check on the mileage since Lenny arrived in my house and we seem to have walked 1,578 miles on 377 different days. It would have been further but someone around here, who shall remain nameless, didn’t get a watch that recorded distance and time for around half of March. Did you dad? We haven’t done too bad I suppose since Lenny has arrived. We can walk together now and each have our own sniff trails to follow, he has learnt to lurch into the hedges and undergrowth to try and catch rabbits and he is also extremely good at aroooing at passing runners, cyclists and other dogs. We have explored pretty much everywhere there is to investigate here so our combined desire to explore further afield becomes stronger each day.

Where are those pesky rabbits?

For now we will enjoy our health as well as our safety whilst we are locked away locally. We know there will be opportunities on the horizon to make our way to different places, we just have to continue being a little cautious.

Come on dad, it’s time for a walk.

Or maybe not.

Gracie Mae

Some days I wake up, stretch and look outside eagerly to see what shenanigans I can get up to. I look across at Lenny who is often times sleeping quietly in his bed and think I am the luckiest Beagle Harrier I know. Today wasn’t one of those days, I had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

As dad sat down to eat his cornflakes he flicked onto my Twitter account and saw that one of my oldest friends had passed over the Rainbow Bridge. Gracie Mae Beagle lives in America. She was one of the first friends I met when I joined Twitter in late December 2013. My account was opened as my parents had no experience of owning a rescue dog, let alone a beagle and they sought some assistance from other beagle owners in respect of what to expect over the coming months and years. One of the first people to respond to some of our questions was Gracie’s mum, called auntie Wendy. She said Gracie would love to try and help us understand more about Beagles. She was kind, thoughtful and willing to try and help us through the early stages of Beagle adoption and all its intricacies.

Over the years since we first woofed, I am proud to be able to call Gracie my friend. We have shared many funny times, as well as cried on one another shoulders metaphorically when things aren’t so good.

Pardon me mum, Dexter wants to know what?

Gracie allowed me to become part of the Sploshun Squad, an elite band of furs who can destroy stuffed toys in minimal time and with minimal fuss. Gracie was the best at beating up her stuffed toys. Many times I performed dental lobotomy on sheep, squirrels, reindeer, elephant and snake toys. The fluff and innards would be everywhere, I would be laying on my back laughing and arooing in triumph. As soon as I checked my work with Gracie she would be arooing with me, and giving me encouragement and tips on faster destruction of the toys.

Gracie gave the world the Gracieball, whereupon you sleep in the tightest ball possible, preferably with your nose tucked under your back legs. So many pals tried and succeeded in making a Gracieball that I hope she had proud ears.

Lenny got 10/10 for this effort

Gracie was the queen of stink eye. If you disapprove of something or someone, the sideways glance or glare which more than adequately expresses your disdain. She was a mistress of the art, a true queen of the trade.

Sorry but just no.

Gracie was always one of the first to offer her sympathy to so many pals around the world when something terrible happened or the inevitable time of the longest journey arrived. She was kind, thoughtful and compassionate, a true friend to all who met and woofed with her.

Today Gracie made her longest journey and we have lost one of the best furs possible to the Rainbow Bridge. She had been ill recently, the vet was looking after her but circumstances dictated that it was, most sadly, Gracie’s final curtain call. I know that her Basset brother Roscoe will be so sad that his sister is no longer here to play with him. Despite having fun beating each up, I know they were best buddies and would always look out for one another.

We will miss you Gracie sweetie. Run free from your cares and ills. Find all the pals who will be waiting to greet and guide you on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge and rest easy. Your work down here is done.

For you Gracie.

We patrolled in your honour today, Gracie beagle. Farewell but never goodbye for we shall meet again one day.

Tick tock

A cautionary tale today pals.

If you are out on patrol and are lucky enough to be able to stroll through fields and woods, please ask your parents to check you for ticks when you return home. I was found to have a passenger attached to my neck and, for once, it wasn’t Lenny. They saw what seemed to be a cyst shaped object poking through my fur just below my collar. At first they thought “Oh he’s 10 or so and we need to be aware of various lumps and bumps”. It was only once my parents looked it up on the wonder that is the internet and saw it was actually a yucky tick that they were concerned. They spoke briefly to the emergency vet who said to speak to our local vet practice this morning.

Please excuse dad’s unsightly fingers

The little blighter fell off during the night and was found sleeping soundly upside down in my bed. Duly scooped up and put in a jar for posterity (or destruction) the tick is now history. I woofed with the vet lady this morning who saw my x-rays, also know as some pawparazzi pictures, and said that I should be ok. However my parents need to keep an eye on me as ticks can be carriers of all sorts of really nasty diseases and may even be fatal.

Be gone, foul beast of the night

Enjoy your walks pals and people, but please be careful and vigilant of nasty little bugs and critters attaching themselves to your fur and often trying to drink your blood in the process.

Tick tock, your time has come, nasty tick critter. Time for you to leave me alone.