Life – Page 3

Nothing to report?

It’s been a quiet time here in semi-rural Shropshire. The sun has been hidden behind clouds thanks to anti cyclonic weather blanketing the nations for the last weeks. As a result our noses haven’t been down as much and we have had to make do with dull and boring strolls.

I must however report that I have been escorted to the vet due to my inability to refrain from scratching my ears, making them raw in the process and thus additionally itchy. I have been bound up by the Cone of Shame for over a week in an effort to try and stop my incessant scratching. The vet was good and I was examined, prodded and poked as normal. There weren’t as many personal details expressed this time although I was described as “wriggly” if and when I am being examined or, worse still, being jabbed. On this occasion I got both these crimes against beagling.

I look like an extra from a costume drama.

Lenny and I survived the aural horror of Fireworks Night, or Bonfire Night, or Guy Fawkes Night which in the UK has become an excuse for letting off rockets and bangers so loud that us furs as well as many humans fear for our lives. I have wondered (read complained) aloud about the sale and use of these infernal objects for quite some time and I continue to be puzzled. Celebrating the grisly death of a man famous for trying to enact a heinous crime some 419 years ago? The method of punishment and torture was awful, truly grim. Anyway I will continue to advocate for the ban of fireworks to the public for however long I remain alive.

It’s become chillier over the last few days. The clouds have broken and the nights to become cooler. We have taken advantage of the clearer mornings on our separate walks to enjoy the sights and scents that the local area has to offer. We walk separately as we are beagles and tend to try and reach the same scent at the same time, with the result that arms and shoulders are regularly almost disjointed. We tend to be calmer when Lenny and I are apart. We did take a walk across to Cheney Longville over the weekend together though and we were amazed by an older chaps garden, sporting the largest cauliflowers we have ever seen (we are easily impressed). Beyond that we have walked separately and enjoyed our trips with the respective immovable object attached to us, spoiling our intended fun of chasing rabbits, squirrels and anything else that moves.

The days are becoming shorter and the scents are sticking around much more so I think we will be in for a bumper selection of walks and adventures in the coming months. The trees are shedding their leaves and the colours are a wonderful pastiche of brown, yellow and green.

There is much yet to enjoy this autumn and we intend to make the most of it. Stay tuned.

Carding Mill Valley

This morning, at an hour far too early for Lenny, we were cajoled out of bed and into our harnesses. This usually meant there was a little trip on the cards and today proved no different. A quick patrol around the garden and we were loaded into our travel crates. Along the lane, turn right, right again, follow the road, left, right, left and then park in a steep sided valley.

Before the boot was opened we were chatting to another dog who happened to wander past with her owner. As we were trussed up and then unloaded from our crates we looked around at the beautiful colours of the hills, with the leaves on the small trees changing to a light brown and the bracken becoming browned as autumn encroached. We strolled along the road and passed a lady whose daughter had two beagles both of whom had sadly made their longest journey quite recently. We greeted the lady in true beagle fashion and were rewarded with a big smile. As we followed the road along the base of the valley, we looked up now and again to see the lovely colours of the hills stretching away into the distance.

Scents filled our noses, and wondrous sights filled our eyes. The path grew a little steeper and the tarmac gave way to gravel. I was allowed to splosh through the little brook running alongside the path so I could quench my thirst. An allegation was directed toward me that all the pulling, huffing, puffing and shouting was making me more thirsty. We turned left and strolled along a smaller stony path which led through some streams and then to stone steps. As we ascended the steps we were told to behave and not pull. This instruction was, of course, unheeded. As we got to the top of the steps there was a small reservoir in a bowl in the contours of the hill. We weren’t allowed to go for a dip sadly although Lenny seems to be allergic to puddles and water generally.

At this point there was another smaller gravel path which ran along the side of the hill but it wasn’t deemed suitable for an older beagle who has little or no idea of what “being careful” means. I think it was aimed at me but! We turned around and descended along the original path. We scented each leaf and frond, Lenny found something disgusting to eat and then we wandered along the lane back to the car.

Back at home we were released to run around the garden but we both stood and waited for the door to be opened. A beagle never forgets that a breakfast has been missed. Having eaten we went off for snoozes.

It wasn’t a long walk but we had fun, scented everything, pulled on our leads and let many people know we were in Carding Mill Valley. We are slowly finding more places to go and each time they fill us with wonder and happiness. We will return to CMV, very probably for a longer stroll.

Then it rained.

Another update later than I would like. Early last week the area where we live was warned that there was prolonged rain on its way. This isn’t particularly unusual and the locals will tell you this is the reason it’s so green and fresh around these parts.

In any case we went out in the rain for our early morning walk on Wednesday. It had started raining on Tuesday night so we knew we were going to get a little damp on our stroll around town. Returning home, Lenny and I were duly towelled down and we took breakfast in the utility room. After this we retired to our favourite lazing around beds and awaited the break in the weather so we could be ushered outside for our calls of nature. Hours passed and the break was nowhere to be seen. We went out quickly in any case and were duly towelled down again upon our return. The rain continued. Each time we looked out of the windows we could see that the river flowing through the meadow to the front of our house was rising. This didn’t cause us too much concern as we know there is flood plain surrounding the river and this would keep us safe from the water of the rising river.

Then the river broke its banks and started to flood the field, gradually moving across toward the house. The sheep who were grazing the field in the morning had been moved to another field, higher up and out of harms way.

Then we had a break in the rain and went out into the garden to have a quick break. The water from the fields behind the house were washing the contents of the clouds down toward the house, through the retaining wall, onto the patio and into the central heating plant room of our house. Lenny and I were duly placed back inside whilst drains were opened and baling out of the plant room was taken care of. With the help of one of our friends, we managed to drain the water and it then started raining again. And boy did it rain, for a few hours constantly, all the while filling up the patio and re-flooding the plant room. The drain holes were barely coping so storm drains were opened to try and remove as much as the water as possible. The retaining wall became a water feature, a garden fountain spouting the rainy contents of the field onto the patio. It was of course a water feature that wasn’t wanted or needed. We could hear the water rushing over the front of our garden and into the small lane leading toward the river. Then, around 10 pm, it stopped raining. There was silence apart from the continuing streams of rain water rushing off the fields and onto the patio.

Thursday morning arrived and we feared the worst. Venturing outside the inspect the likely destruction we were greeted with weak sunshine and the plant room moist but not flooded. The flooding from the river had covered the field and turned it into a giant duck pond. The lane was passable so it was decided to have a road walk. We strolled across the bridge toward the town and the river had flooded the entire field, small picnic carpark and almost into surrounding streets.

Our walk was shortened as we heard that the local nature reserve had also suffered significant flooding. For the rest of the day we walked around the garden and thanked our lucky stars that we live a little way above the flood plain that caught all of the water.

We won’t get flooded from the river but we are taking steps to try and make sure we don’t get flooded from the fields.

A salutary tale. Stay safe everyone

Mists and mellow fruitfulness

Ok, Ok I may have borrowed the title from someone more famous.

It’s got chillier recently. As a beagle of an advancing age I can feel the chill more in my bones now. This doesn’t mean I don’t run around the garden in the rain and wind like a hound possessed, all the while singing the song of the breed so the locals all know I am out and about.

Lenny went for a walk earlier this week and saw the mists sitting across the field which fronts our house. We live behind the trees in the picture.

Then it rained. And rained. And rained. Just for one day and one night. The river rose around 2 metres and the field turned into a giant swimming pool for the ducks and geese, the sheep had to graze on the higher grounds and our walks were taken in slightly different directions.

It has receded now, to be replaced by some excellent muddy soggy patches where we can go splashing through, all the while give ourselves dirty bellies. Returning home to be towelled and dried, provided with food and being forced to sleep on/in our comfy warm beds makes us feel very fortunate to have a safe home.

This will be the norm for the next few months whilst winter spreads her icy fingers across our lives and pushes us to snooze more often in front of the log burner. I may be feeling the chill, but it won’t stop me going out and exploring. There is so much to see and appreciate where we live and to see the seasons give us new palettes of colour every day.

Happy birthday Lenny

It’s been over five years since Lenny as an eight month old pup was dropped into my safe and secure little world. He arrived like a whirlwind, which then blew itself out after a couple of hours chasing each other around the garden. He proceeded to make himself very comfortable in his new life. He’s been involved in two house moves, holidays away to Cornwall and the Lake District as well as numerous weekends and day trips to see places and meet new friends.

Throughout the time he has been here, we have bonded and now we are like brothers. Sometimes we fight and squabble, with a subsequent telling off given to us (usually me 🙄). More often though we will just get along and play nicely, stroll around the garden or pull our respective parent around the garden, field or country lane.

When he first arrived I wondered what was happening to me. Now I see that he’s the best thing that happened to me, aside from me being adopted in 2013.

Happy sixth birthday Lenny, I hope you have fun and enjoy your day running around being silly. I might even let you win at bitey face.

Wart Hill Wanderings

Some may have noticed that I haven’t been prolific on here since our move to the countryside back in March. Some may have not. We’ve just been very busy exploring and making sure that the house is getting toward what we want it to be like. Then of course that stuffy work thing rears its ugly head for our assistants.

In any case we have been exploring and the miles under our paws seem to be increasing. We are starting to go to different places and expand our horizons, both metaphorically and physical (I suspect they weren’t words you thought you’d hear from a beagle). Last weekend was no exception when Lenny and I were bundled into the car and we set off along the narrow lanes to, well, who knew where. In this case our parents knew but didn’t bother telling us beagles in our travel crates.

Once parked the boot was opened and the vista was far ranging.

Unloaded from our comfy travel beds we proceeded into the field via the kissing gate and set our sights up hill along the path.

Within 50 paces we were swiftly halted as there was livestock in the field we were supposed to be crossing and let’s just say that livestock and me don’t mix. Chalk and cheese, oil and water etc. Not wanting to recreate any battle we were abruptly turned round and marched down the hill, across the narrow lane and through another gate toward a wooded hill. Now we’re talking! Lenny looked at me, I reciprocated and off we charged, baying and shouting until we reached the extent of our leads and realised we were attached to a parent. They always spoil our intended off lead shenanigans. Through the path close to the bracken, up the hill, turn right and left, back track to a viewpoint and then down the path.

The Long Mynd (one day we will get there)

Turn right then left, traverse the boggy patches on the path, avoid the bracken with its resident ticks (revolting things) and then out into the day light with a small pond nearby. Around the pond, up the hill and then to the road where we turned left and followed the curve of the road back to where the car was parked. We had walked this road before and typically our parents had not taken any pictures. When we got back to the car we were unceremoniously returned to our prison cells for the journey home.

We are trapped. Look at our forlorn faces.

Arriving home we assumed the customary position of snoozing whilst the day went on around us giving us time to dream of our next adventure as well as think about blogging more often.

A pair of country dogs

My friends, I have been quiet recently and now I think it is time I let you all know why I have not been on here as much as I would like.

Lenny and I noticed that over the last few months of 2023, and more so until now in early 2024, that quite a few things have been disappearing into boxes and stored away into rooms that we are not allowed access to. We thought it was weird as we had encountered this before when we were told that we had been moved from our house with the lovely garden in the Chilterns to a posh new kennel, sorry a posh new house, closer to the seaside in West Sussex. What made us more suspicious was that we had also been taken out on short walks at different times of the day over the course of about 4-6 weeks, but we weren’t complaining as it was a walk, after all. Gradually our toys and beds were hidden away over the last few months and we were being barred from some rooms in the house.

We weren’t even allowed to say goodbye properly to our old house as we were made ready for our journey.

Well, it seems that our parents have hoodwinked us both again as we were loaded into the car and driven north by northwest for a few hours to be deposited in a half furnished house that had some of our beds, toys and food already in place.

Mum decided to take the busiest part of the motorway.

We recognised the smell of the house as it was where we had met up with our friend Griff back in November 2023 when we stayed for a week, apparently for a holiday. Yesterday the men who had stolen all our things on Tuesday arrived at the new house to give them all back to us. We were of course very happy to see them again and greeted them accordingly. We weren’t allowed to help the men though, for some reason. We made sure that our beds, food and toys were unboxed very quickly.

Some of our stuff (please ignore the Tring Brewery bags. Dad is to blame)

Sadly that also meant that the leads and harnesses came out of the boxes far, far too early for our liking.

This is now our “forever kennel” so Lenny and I can enjoy ourselves when the parents get the stuff sorted out. We have explored the field opposite, pulled our parents along the lane in front of the house, Lenny has been off lead in our lovely new garden and we have spent the last two nights sleeping merrily in our beds. It hasn’t stopped raining yet, which is a pity. We can see sheep in the field, we’ve watched a Red Kite take off from the hedge in front of the house and even saw a bat flitting around in the dusk on our walk last evening. All in all it’s a good start to our new life and home in Shropshire. We are promised walks to so many different places that we want to go and see them all at once. We have some tour guides lined up for when we are sorted out in the house a little more, which will be good as it might stop raining by then.

We will try to write more often once we have some of our belongings a little more sorted out.

The travails of the age

As regular readers will know, I am not one to grumble about things. I like to try and be positive, don’t you know.

I woke up eight days ago and wondered why I felt a bit yucky and then thought “I need to make a trip to the garden quickly”. Thankfully a parent assisted in clearing the way for my emergency dash. Lenny just looked out of his giant clam shell cave bed, yawned and went back to sleep.

An hour or so later I needed to repeat the trip and, again, a parent made sure I was in the garden in time. Over the next four days or so nobody apart from Lenny got much sleep whilst I went on a restricted diet, starved for a day in case it was something nasty, was fed my worming tablet and then went onto bland chicken and rice. I have no idea how it can be considered “bland” when you haven’t eaten anything for four days. Anyway, on Monday I was off to the vet in the company of my dad who proceeded to inform the vet of all of my inner most secrets. I didn’t authorise release of the information but apparently they are worried about me so it was justified. Having been prodded, poked, squeezed and had the stethoscope applied I then had to endure the dreaded “furmometer”. Apart from being ill, I was told I was in fine fettle for a dog of my age. The diagnosis was that I may have become intolerant to a food that I have been eating. At this stage I thought it best not to admit to the dirty puddle I had licked or the various other non edible stuff that I had sniffed, licked and digested on my walks. The vet had ruled those out however, so I was in the clear.

The chicken and rice continued to appear in tiny portions in my food bowl and the biscuits have all but disappeared from the menu. There was a strangely tasty paste applied to my meagre breakfasts and dinners. Subsequent nights have passed wherein the parents have been kept awake by a tummy that gurgles like a pan on the stove. I have also been restless throughout the nights whilst during the day I have enlisted the help of Lenny so we can use a double dose of the begging eyes when we are starving hungry. As beagles we are always starving hungry even if we have eaten ten minutes ago but this is by the by.

Last night my tummy didn’t gurgle. Today I did something for the first time in nine days, that made my parents happy. I shall not go into the gory details. I am still listless, tired and starving hungry. It seems that as an older fur it will take longer for me to recover from ailments which means more sleepless nights for those who look after me. Even Lenny backed off from playing bitey face with me as he can tell that I am not quite right. I actually caught him oozing out of his bed, with his head on my bed, early this morning. I will let it pass for the time being though.

I must remember that things take longer the older you become. I have to remind myself to slow down which is something I have never understood before. Take time to smell the roses, sniff the breeze and feel the sun on your face. But don’t drink dirty water or eat awful stuff on your walk.

I’m off to bed for a snooze.

The day I hoped would never arrive

Sometimes you hear news that knocks you sideways. Today is one of those days. If I may indulge you for a short time.

Since I started my career on the platform formerly known as Twitter I have been blessed with many and varied friends. Some I have met, some I have always longed to meet. This missive is about a friend who falls into the latter category and who, now, I deeply regret not meeting.

Hamish is the name of the friend concerned. It was on 29 January 2009 he arrived into this world unlikely to know the extent of joy and happiness he was about to shower upon those who followed him, laughed with him and read his witty and erudite comments through the last 15 years. He was the Admiral of the Brunicorn, wit, raconteur, sports brain, historian of Glasgow and beyond, traveller, his mums cuddles monkey and general all-round good egg. He was one of the first to greet me when I arrived in December 2013 and he welcomed me with typical wit and charm. Through his friendship I am an honorary member of the BT Posse. I am more educated than I was in so many subjects ranging from Aberdeen FC through to the Emirates flights arriving into Glasgow Airport. I have learned about the fancy headgear of one Duke of Wellington in Glasgow and the navigational hazards of Loch Lomond whilst piloting a Brunicorn.

However what I have learned the most is this. Friends are great, those who stand by you and watch as you get older and are always there to lend a paw are wonderful. Those who entertain, make us laugh, feel sad or cry are excellent. To be able to do all of these is a testament to the power of the Hamish. He has so many pals who today are grieving his passing. There is a feeling of sadness, despair and hollowness within our hearts. That said, there seems to be a sense of gratitude that he touched so many of our lives with his wit, charm and insight into many parts of our lives. We may feel sad and hollow today but tomorrow and the days after, we will remember what he said and the way he made us laugh or feel enriched.

We cannot go on forever, this is a given. All I say is that it is a privilege and an honour to know Hamish and to be his friend. That he has been my buddy makes me sad he is gone but content that he has been here. Run free my friend, go scamper in the everlasting meadow where the gentle sun warms your fur. Find those who have gone before and rest easy from your worldly woes.

Hamish. Arrived 29 January 2009 and departed 8 January 2024. Gone from sight but never from mind or hearts. I salute you.

Well, that was some year!

My usual run down of what happened, or didn’t, in 2023.

January.

Having had my diagnosis just before Christmas 2022, I knew that January 2023 wasn’t going to be a particularly busy month. It turned out exactly as I had anticipated. On 6th January I was drugged, turned upside down and had my right cruciate ligament jiggled about with. I came home the following day and wasn’t allowed out of my living room without an attendant parent. There was no bitey face with Lenny. He got bored.

February.

This month started as January ended. I was still not “allowed” upstairs, I was going to physio once a week and I was banned from bitey face with Lenny. My leg was healing and I wanted to be out and about. I was being restrained by anxious parents who didn’t want me to undo all the good work. The physio lady had to remember she was dealing with a thirteen year old beagle and not one much younger, when I was getting my exercises. I got caught upstairs, laying on a bed. I didn’t get told off. Lenny was still bored without play time.

March.

Lenny and I got to interact a little. We might, or might not, have engaged in some bitey face in the living room. And the dining room, the kitchen, the utility and a bedroom. Oops. He did tell me that he missed me when I was being made into the Six Million Dollar dog though. We went on short walks as I was still officially not back to normality so we went to see nanny and grandad resting place. On the last day of March we went to the beach with Griff and his parents. It was blowing a hoolie but we loved it.

April.

The sun came out, it got warmer and we were allowed out into the garden, all the while supervised in case I did something silly. I was feeling much better and even the physio was surprised at my speed of recovery. I chilled on the grass and was allowed on short walks so I could regain some strength in my leg. Lenny went on longer walks and found some bluebells.

May.

Loaded into the car we had no idea where we were going. All we knew is that it took hours to get there and when we arrived it smelled of the seaside. We had a week in Cornwall, a place called Sennen Cove. My leg was feeling better and stronger each day and we managed to see plenty of places all the while having great fun. We spent the rest of the month recuperating, although I had another few days in the Cone of Shame thanks to picking up sand flies from the beach and pampas grass.

June.

Phew what a scorcher. It was way too warm when Smudgey & Ted arrived for a play date. Not that it stopped shenanigans. We went to the Paw Paddock and then to the pub to cool off. The remainder of June was spent recovering and trying to stay cool. Lenny checked up on his flowers.

July.

July was a time for trying to find crickets and grasshoppers to eat, as well as adventures to Leonardslee Gardens which is near to our home, as we have now found out. It was great and even has a Deer Park.

August.

The parents worked whilst the heat grew and we retreated to various cooler rooms during the day. It was Lenny’s birthday. He is now five, although he usually acts in a way that would make you think he is older. I, on the other paw, do not.

September.

We found ourselves in the car again, as we turned north and didn’t decamp until we were in our favourite place, The Lake District. Eskdale was our place of residence for a week of running around and having fun. We met Sasha, watched in awe as she rolled in Fox do-do, we went on a train, walked for miles, gazed at views, climbed small hills and paddled in cooling streams. For some reason we were tired for the rest of September.

October.

We had a nice day out with Smudgey & Ted in Brighton shortly before they went off to the new maison. Stanmer Park was great and we pulled like steam trains all the time we were there. The days were getting shorter and we were trying to solve the riddle of why we don’t get treats when we want them.

November.

Bundled into the car once more, we had a week staying near Griff’s house in Shropshire. The parents muttered something about the best Christmas present for Lenny and I. We didn’t understand and still don’t but we will apparently find out soon enough. We walked and walked with Griff, went to Ludlow and the parents got Cinnamon buns, whilst Lenny and I were forced to improve our begging skills.

December.

So it’s a year since my operation and the Christmas tree made an appearance. We allowed the parents to do their “work” thing whilst we helped them by being furry foot warmers. The paths got muddier, the days got shorter and now Christmas is upon the horizon. I had my tenth Gotcha Day, celebrating the day I strolled into their lives.

To sum up, it’s been an excellent year after a bit of a dodgy start. We’ve met loads of pals, been to plenty of lovely places and had far too much excitement for our parents nerves. And their shoulders. We have lost way, way too many pals this year which makes me feel sad and mortal. As I continue into my dotage, I know that I will one day join the ranks of those who have fallen by the wayside. Until then, I am going to enjoy it.

Happy New Year to you all, may it be peaceful and bring you comfort.