We were hurried along last Saturday and found ourselves being walked across the field in front of the house. This was unusual as we had already been for a walk and we were looking forward to a good snooze. All this country air seems to have the desired effect on us. In any case it was clear that there was a deadline to meet so we weren’t allowed to loiter and snack on the gifts that the sheep had left us. Across the road, and then right turn into the train station. Aha, an adventure! Now we’re talking.
Onto the train when it arrived and we were then speeding along, we knew not where. The countryside went past the window as Lenny and I tried to hoover up the various specks of food that people had kindly dropped on the train floor. We also tried to make friends with people on the train but found ourselves being told to behave. As the train arrived at the next stop we got off and found ourselves in Ludlow. Off we trotted to see what we could find, pulling our parents behind us. Ludlow was founded around 1066-1085 somewhere around the Norman Conquest. Its castle sits high upon the hill overlooking the river Teme and is a very impressive, if somewhat ruinous, structure.
Look regal, we’re at a castle.
Sometime after the castle was built the town was fortified around 1233 due to the squabbles between various English kings and Welsh Princes. There remain over 500 listed buildings in the town which are very impressive.
We went through the streets, past the market, around the castle, down to the riverside walk, back up into the town, around the market square and then back toward the station for our return trip. It was very busy as the Saturday market was in full swing and there were plenty of people enjoying the early Spring sunshine. On our way back, we had to make a detour to the Ludlow Brewery & Tap Room. This is a very dog friendly place in which we also saw another beagle enjoying a relaxing time.
You’re too young to drink beer, Lenny.
After a while we had to make our train home and strolled to the station for the journey home.
Once more Lenny and I tried to make friends with the other passengers, whilst trying to eat all the tasty morsels dropped onto the floor. We travelled past Stokesay Castle which was built in the 1280’s by very rich wool merchants. It’s looked after now by English Heritage. Stokesay appears in the Domesday Book so it is a very old settlement.
We will visit Stokesay Castle one day soon, although we aren’t allowed inside the building.
Off the train and hurried back across the field, we were deposited into our beds for a snooze after a successful trip. We are going to Ludlow again, more than likely on a quieter day than Saturday market. It seems very dog friendly and we want to get the chance of checking out more places.
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.
Goodbye kitchenLenny, get out of bed!
We weren’t even allowed to say goodbye properly to our old house as we were made ready for our journey.
Is that it? Where are all my toys?
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.
Our new kennel.
We will try to write more often once we have some of our belongings a little more sorted out.
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.
Well here I am once more seeking to justify my lack of blog entries over the last few weeks. I cannot excuse myself from my inability to blog more often, I am merely becoming older and those things that took a short time a while back now seem to be taking longer. You know the sort of thing, going upstairs, eating breakfast, climbing into one of my eleven beds (I have to share some of them with Lenny!) and bimbling around the garden amongst others.
In any case there hasn’t been a great deal happening apart from meeting up with Smudgey & Ted and their parents of course for a stroll around Stanmer park before they went off for a life affirming sojourn to European pastures. I did manage to pull like a freight train around Stanmer Park dragging mum behind me. I am not sure whether the muttering was directed at me or if it was complimentary. I was too busy pulling, snorting and trying to breath in every scent and sight as well as letting everyone else know I was there.
That’s me on the left, being quiet
Back home for a few weeks it seems that Lenny and I have to be subjected to something called “watching the parents work and being quiet”. We can adequately achieve one of those goals but doing both at the same time is often beyond our capacity. It appears that this “work” they do allows us to be kept in the comfort we deserve and require so we aren’t allowed to complain too loudly.
I was in the garden last week for a pre bed time wander with Lenny. We are allowed out so we can do what we need to do and then we are forced to laze about in our beds (he has a cave bed befitting a vampiric being) all night. I have the unfortunate trait of getting acid reflux so I need to eat small amounts regularly through the day and night so constant sleep for everyone is a little unusual to be honest. When I wake up I tend to wake up Lenny and then we work our canine magic on mum who dishes out the treats. This can happen 3-4 times a night so we’ve got used to seeing the parents wake up and stagger around looking like zombies from a B-Movie in the morning. Anyway back to the garden and pre bed strolling. Dad accompanies us outside on these occasions and he was watching me to make sure I “behave”. He shone the torch toward me, I looked up at him and he felt very sad to see that my eyes had greyed over, and my coat glistened all white in the torch light. I wandered back and got some tickles but I could feel the sadness in his fingers as he stroked my ears. The realisation had hit him that I am an old fella now. As I lolloped (look it up) upstairs to bed I could hear him sighing behind me.
The magician and his apprentice
This picture was taken when we were allegedly plotting chicanery and shenanigans. Mum saw it and felt so sad because she said I look so old. I’m thirteen and a half apparently, I am a bit shaky when I am trying to relax, if I exert myself when walking then my legs start shaking and I have to approach the leap onto the sofa or chair as a leap of faith. I am on some pills to try and stop me aching so much and sometimes they work. I still grumble quite a bit when I am getting belly rubs.
I’m not sure about this growing old malarkey but I will approach it with my usual aplomb and lack of complaint.
Somewhat later than I would have anticipated I must relate a tail of adventures that happened to Lenny and myself recently.
It started like any normal Friday morning back on 8th September. We were rudely awoken and found ourselves harnessed ready for something unexpected. We were whisked away for a short stroll and returned to find the car loaded and ready. Duly cajoled into our travel crates we turned north and we decided to settle down for a while. First stop and we are out, walked fed and watered then loaded back into our comfy crate beds for the next leg. After a few more hours we find ourselves being walked around a noisy motorway service area for a leg stretch and then reloaded. We seem to be getting used to this. The traffic increased, our speed slowed and the exasperation from the driver also got louder. Eventually we left the motorway and I could feel the palpable sense of relief. Another hour or so and we found ourselves at a big gate on the bottom of a driveway leading to a different house. As the boot was opened we smelt the familiar scent of the Lakes. Our parents had hoodwinked us again, we were on holiday in my favourite place.
Muncaster Fell
Time for some shenanigans I thought. Sadly I was swiftly over ruled and we were told to behave whilst the car was emptied. Then it was off around the village to get our bearings and have a jolly good sniff about, followed by a trip to the pub to “see what its like”.
Saturday dawned and we wondered if the view was the same as when we arrived. Thankfully it was the same so we decided to wander round the village, scent all the local critters and get to know Oscar the black Labrador who lived in the house opposite. I remembered him and we renewed acquaintances. Then we strolled about some more, returned to the house to allow our breakfast to be made and then took off on a woodland walk to scent more local wildlife. Lenny was loving all the new places to explore and we set a fair pace. I’m not so sure, however, that the parents enjoyed seeing all the ticks that seemed to be attaching themselves to my fur as we strolled along. I was being examined and then having the little blood suckers removed far too regularly. We took it easy for the remainder of the day as it was still humid and we didn’t want to overdo it. In the early evening we ended up back at the pub, on the pretence that the beer needed to be checked for quality. It passed muster apparently.
Ssshh, if we pretend to be asleep, we might get treats.
Sunday was Irton Pike day. There are a number of hills in the Lake District that are known as Wainwrights. Iron Pike is one of them I think. People like to try and climb all 214 of them. Lenny had never been on one of them, so we treated him. We set off for the short car journey to the bottom of the hill. Having decamped from the car we set off at some pace up the stony track and through the edge of the woods. Apparently I sound like a puffing billy steam train when I pull on the lead. It makes them wince as I don’t seem to remember I am 13 and had a serious operation some 9 months earlier. In any case we pulled our way through the gate, over the stile and along the narrow path through the woods, to the summit of Irton Pike.
Irton Pike, Lenny had conquered a Wainwright
As we came out from the woods we were greeted by the sight of another beagle called Monty who had conquered the peak. We conversed with one another in the usual beagle manner and then saw the rain coming in from the coast, so thought it wise to descend as we didn’t have our waterproof coats with us. Lenny seemed quite pleased with his efforts. Once we had returned home we needed to make sure that there were no intruders so we kept a lookout for everyone who walked past.
Repel all boarders, Lenny.
Our parents decided we would try a different pub that evening, so off we wandered to see if the beer tasted different to the previous night.
As Monday arrived it was decided for us that we would stroll along the river side path to Dalegarth (Boot). It was a fairly flat walk with plenty of scents to keep Lenny and I occupied. To be honest we were already feeling a bit tired after a few days of this more strenuous lifestyle and, if I had been offered another 30 minutes in bed, I would have accepted. Anyway, early morning stroll out of the way, we set off tackle the path alongside the River Esk, leading toward Hardknott Pass. I’d walked it before and its great fun. Through the fields and gates, up through the woods and then down toward the river so we can have a paddle and a drink of the fresh water.
Stump club king
After a while we turned around as I was pulling like a train and there was concern that I would do “myself an injury”. The rest was welcome when we returned to the house, with Lenny and I both grabbing some snoozes in between watching everyone who passed the window. Off to the pub again in the evening to see if the beer quality had changed. Lenny and I just slept on our settle mats. Then we crashed into our beds for some serious sleep back at the house.
When we awoke on Tuesday we had no idea of what we were about to do. Our early morning walk went without a hitch and we had breakfast. Off out once more we skirted along the path at the base of Muncaster Fell, passed the farm and then turned right onto the Esk Trail. Lenny looked at me, I reciprocated and we both got ready to enjoy what lay ahead. We strolled along the path until it veered off up a fairly steep hill which seemed to go on for about two weeks. The path wound its way up, and eventually back down, toward Muncaster Castle. Sadly we weren’t going to the Castle as we found out by strolling past. On to Ravenglass we went and found ourselves dipping our toes in the brackish seawater of the estuary.
Lenny, look out for dead washed up stuff.
We were tired so when we heard that we wouldn’t have to walk back, this was a blessing. Lenny had never been on the La’al Ratty steam train. Its run by the Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway and was originally used to bring Iron Ore from the Fells out to Ravenglass for onward carriage to Barrow, and transporting the workers on the return leg into the Fells. Once the trade stopped the railway eventually was used for holiday passengers. So there we were, boarding the little train to travel back to Irton Road and our home for the week. Lenny looked a little concerned getting on board so we tried to reassure him that all was ok.
Don’t worry Lenny it’s alright.
He started to relax a little once he could see the views as we travelled along. Secretly we both were glad to rest our legs after a nearly eight mile walk. Back at the house we rested again until it was time to test out the pub once more.
As Wednesday surfaced the day seemed to be bright but Lenny and I were feeling the effects of our previous days walk. We wandered slowly around on our, now customary, morning sojourn through the village and gratefully consumed our breakfast. Into the car and off we went, with the hills becoming smaller as we drove away from them. We needn’t have worried if the holiday was over, as we quickly found ourselves deposited at the beach at Drigg. A good stroll along the beach was in prospect and, maybe, the chance to eat some rotten dead washed up stuff. We set off at a great pace, as the sandy beach stretched away in front of us. Sadly for us, our parents were aware that a large number of beached jellyfish littered the sand ahead and we were stopped from investigating these creatures, with the excuse that we would get stung and the vet bill would come out of our food and treat allowance. In any case we strolled, aroooed at the seagulls, tried to walk up the sand dunes and tried not to lick the seawater.
A fun time.
Having gone for some miles we turned for home and retraced our paw prints to the car. Lenny fairly leapt into his travel crate, which is generally a sign that he’s enjoying himself. Back to the house for some rest and food, after which we wandered along to the pub to see what was happening. As we turned into the pub car park, a familiar face greeted us. It was auntie J who had come along for a few days and brought Sasha with her. We had not met Sasha before so we spent a short time having a road walk and then into the pub for some rest whilst the parents chattered. As we left, the heavens opened and by the time we got to the house, everything was soaked through.
We awoke on Thursday amid some excitement. The parents had made arrangements to meet up with Sasha and auntie J and we were going to walk along the river path again. Having strolled around the village first thing, we were fed and then told we had to behave ourselves when we are out with Sasha. I looked at Lenny who looked at me. Of course we will! We met up at the train station and strolled along the roads to the bridge where we turned left and started on the trail. We scented everything and then watched in awe as Sasha was released from her lead. We watched with delight as she promptly found some fox poop to roll in. She might be a little cutie, but she’s also a proper beagle and we were very proud of her. As we wandered along Sasha was being gradually cleaned with wet grass and eventually we managed to arrive at Boot where we decamped to the pub for some lunch.
I didn’t mean to roll in it, honestly.
Wandering back to the La’al Ratty train station we boarded the train for the journey back to Irton Road. Lenny was much better on this journey, even sticking his head over the side of the carriage to see where we were going. Arriving at the station, Lenny and Sasha decided to graze on same grass whilst I wriggled and arooed as I was bored and trying to escape.
One of their five a day
The adults said they would meet up later so we went our separate ways for a while. We had a quick walk around the village, saw Oscar and then went back to the house for some snoozes. In the evening we met at the Bowerhouse Inn for some food and general chatter. Sasha took up her now usual spot just inside the pub so she could meet and greet everyone who came in, or left. Lenny and I just slept as we were feeling the effects of our holiday exertions. When the time came to leave there was a solemnity amongst the adults and we were told to say goodbye (nicely) to Sasha. Lenny gave her a nose bump whilst I arooed loudly.
Friday morning broke, the clouds scudded across the sky and we found ourselves being harnessed for an early morning walk around the village with only one parent. As we returned to the house we found the car was full of our gear. We leapt into the travel crates and settled down, as this meant only one thing. The car was pointed south and we left the Lakes behind as we returned home. We had a great time in Eskdale, we explored, scented, sniffed, aroooed and best of all smiled the whole time. We enjoyed very much returning to the Bowerhouse Inn with its great food, excellent dog snacks and good beer. Lenny had climbed a Wainwright so he was proud of that achievement. We had met Sasha who is lovely and very funny when she’s doing naughty things. I hope we get to return one day but, for now, I am still catching up on my sleep.
During our recent sojourn to the south west of England, Cornwall to be exact, we had to go to Penzance to take a picture of a pub called the Admiral Benbow. My grandad had taken a picture of the pub in the early 1970’s and we wanted to see if it had changed much, if at all. The evidence is here that it has changed little externally.
Admiral Benbow Chapel Street Penzance 1970’s
And this is the same view about three weeks ago.
Admiral Benbow Chapel Street Penzance May 2023
Beyond a spruce up and some additional signage it looks remarkably similar after 50 years or so.
Sometimes things don’t change and this can be good. The pub was apparently a haunt for local smugglers looking to make a pretty penny and avoid the Customs men prowling the beach and alleys looking for ill-gotten gains. I hope the people who go there today enjoy it.
Having navigated our way through the first three days of our adventures in Cornwall, we awoke to the familiar sound of Lenny snoozing in his cave bed. Tea was made, we got our now normal stroll around the local area and we made ready for the shenanigans ahead.
Into the car and off we set. There seemed to be much trepidation from our parents regarding our destination for the day. Through streets and along lanes we travelled until we turned a sharp right just before a small fishing village called Mevagissey. We hardly had time to read the sign before the car stopped and we were harnessed. Welcome to the Lost Gardens of Heligan. I looked at Lenny who looked back at me. We were sure that says Hooligan.
Once we had announced our arrival to one and all, we set off around the gardens which were lovely. Beautiful colours, wonderful shrubs and trees, quite a few other dogs and all the while there were scents everywhere. In some places the paths were quite steep but Lenny and I found our four-paw drive coped adequately. Our parents shoulders and arms did not cope so well with our attempts to investigate as much of the site as possible as quickly as possible.
We were getting a bit tired toward the end of the visit so we actually managed to walk quite nicely around the walled garden whilst smelling all the herbs, vegetables and fruit trees which were in blossom.
When we leapt back into our travel crates something strange happened as both Lenny and I fell asleep very quickly. So this was the plan of the parents. Tire us out like they did in the Lakes last September. And we had fallen for their ruse. We managed to get back to the holiday house for a short rest before returning to the pub for the early evening to “make sure it hadn’t closed”.
We awoke quite early and saw the sun was still shining. In fact the sun had been shining every day we were there, which was a bonus. After our morning constitutional we heard it muttered that “no car today because we are walking to Lands End”. Breakfast was taken and we readied ourselves for the fun times to come. Strolling through the village we went up some steps and then onto the South West Coast Path toward Lands End. The SWCP is actually a 630 mile path that runs from Minehead in North Somerset to Poole Harbour in south Dorset. We were walking a very short section of it which was lucky as, according to our parents, Lenny and I were already very pully. The path was well marked and thankfully dry so we made good progress, even past the wreck of RMS Mulheim which went aground in 2003 on rocks and broke up soon after.
Having made our way to Lands End itself we strolled about, checked out Longships Lighthouse which is about a mile offshore and then strolled about some more.
We decided against having our picture taken under the signpost which tells you how far you are from home, as it used to be free and now costs, according to a parent, too much and is a rip off. Instead we had our picture taken outside the little model pub.
It was decided that we would stroll back and get an ice cream on the way. Lenny and I looked forward to this as we had never had ice cream before. Sadly when we returned to Sennen Cove it became apparent that the ice cream wasn’t for us, only for the parents so we had to make do with some biscuits. The ice cream was apparently very nice however. We wandered reluctantly back up the hill to the holiday house at which time Lenny and I were to be found flaked out on our beds snoozing away for the rest of the late afternoon. Just for a change we went to the pub to make sure the beer was still good.
Our last full day dawned bright and cheerful. We managed to lift our weary bodies out of our beds for a final assault on enjoying ourselves. Having taken our morning bimble we returned, ate breakfast and made ourselves ready. Today we were going to do some culture and history. There is a place called Chysauster, which is near Penzance. It’s an ancient village so is pretty much a ruin now, but still very interesting as we found out. It was originally constructed about 2,000 years ago and was populated by people who were predominantly farmers. The walls of some of the houses remain but thats about it as the roofs were probably made from wood and thatch so degraded many years ago.
It had been undiscovered until the late Victorian era when an archeologist decided to excavate and see what was there. Apparently these types of settlement are only found in Cornwall and the west of England. Even Lenny and I found it interesting and it wasn’t a strenuous finish to our last full day in Cornwall. On our way back to the holiday house we decided to sleep soundly. We were rudely awakened to find ourselves in the middle of a cleaning mission by our parents before, unsurprisingly, we went to the pub “just to finish off the week”.
Cheerio Sennen Cove
We had a great time and can recommend it to people. You’ll need a car though as many places are quite far apart and off the well trodden paths and roads. The sun shone and we enjoyed ourselves. In fact we slept for the following two days after we had returned home, so it must have been fun.
Wow, where do I start? Somewhat later than I would have liked I can put paw to paper and tell you about one of the biggest adventures Lenny and I have ever had.
This particular Saturday dawned the same as pretty much every Saturday morning recently. One thing was different though. We were awake early, and I had seen some travel bags and dog items being put into the car the previous night. Ok, thats two things but beagles only ever count treats. Along the lane we walked so we could get some scents and do what we had to do. After a while we turned around and wandered back towards home. We were fed whilst the rest of the holiday items were put into the car. Then it was our turn as we were loaded into our travel crates and off we went.
Time seemed to pass really slowly at first as we wound our way around the lanes and minor roads toward the road that would take us, who knew where? Time to stop and stretch our paws and then off on our merry way once more. Two more stops including one when I reminded the parents that it was biscuit o’clock, and we found ourselves winding our way down a narrow country lane. As the boot was opened the smell of sea air filled our noses. Where were we, this wasn’t the normal beach we frequent and we are allowed to eat dead washed up sea creatures. We strolled down a slope toward a strange house, with a strange outlook toward a strange beach. Ensconced behind a door we watched as the contents of the car were unloaded among much grumbling about most of the “stuff being for Dex & Lenny”. Everyone was a bit fatigued by the time we had arrived and decided to adjourn to the pub to “see what it is like”. We were somewhere called Sennen Cove, in the far west of Cornwall. No wonder it took so long to get here.
As we awoke on our first full day, I poked my nose around the curtains to find the same scenery as yesterday when we arrived. We went for a short walk so we could get some scents and explore a bit. Back to the house and it was decided that we should go for a stroll around the coastal path to the next beach which was dog friendly and sounded exotic. It is called Gwynver and off we went. More avid readers will recall that I tend to pull and mess about on lead when I get excited for new scents and new places. The walk around the coastal path lived up to expectations with steep paths, steep drops and the associated huffing and puffing from an exasperated parent. We got to the top of the cliff at Gwynver and looked down to the beach. When I say looked down I mean down. The path was steep and rocky which prompted more worry and concern at the level of my impatience to walk quickly. With the path down navigated very slowly and carefully we strolled across the beach and rocks all the while ensuring that everyone who was there knew Lenny and I had arrived.
We made sure we saw all there was to see and then walked onwards towards another path and home. We’d been out for ages and the parents were feeling a bit tired. Dad went off to get supplies at the local shop and after a rest at the house, we went to the pub for the evening to “check it out again”.
Lenny checking out the Old SuccessThis place looks good to me.
This sea air was making me tired. I saw the Lenny was starting to sleep in longer too, although he sleeps like a log anyway. In any case as we awoke on the second full day on holiday, we took the now familiar stroll around the local area so we could smell rabbits and try to pull our respective parents into the nettles and brambles lining the path. Breakfast was taken and it was time to go out. Lenny and I were told that there would be lots of travelling today so we had to be good. Red rag to a bull comes to mind. Along the road past Lands End we turned right, left, right and left, went down hill and uphill until we arrived at a place called Minack. We were warned again that we HAD to behave here. We duly greeted the ladies on the entry booth of the Minack Theatre in our customary beagle manner. Minack Theatre is a wonderful place. It’s a theatre perched on the edge of the cliff on the southern part of Cornwall. The backdrop is the Atlantic Ocean.
Lenny and I were in awe until we realised we were still in Cornwall. The seats and steps were very steep which caused more consternation as to my alleged penchant for pulling on the lead.
We strolled down the steps, took to the stage, gave a performance worthy of an Oscar, made people smile at my antics and then strolled back up the steps again. It was lovely and we really enjoyed it all. Back in the car we wondered where we would go next. All the lanes seem really narrow and we were driving carefully around corners under we reached a place called Mousehole. Now, I don’t think its called Mousehole as many people called it Mowsull. Also we didn’t see any mice and there weren’t any holes.
It’s a very pretty small fishing village to the west of Newlyn and it is very touristy. We weren’t allowed on the beach so we enjoyed ourselves walking around more little narrow lanes. Duly loaded back into the car we set off for our last destination of the day, Penzance, so dad could post a card, take a picture of a pub and we could get a longer walk along the promenade. We walked along said promenade and made our presence known to the people at the little coffee shop doing a good trade in the early summer sun.
St Michaels MountWar memorial
Having then walked and pulled our way around the lanes and seen St Michaels Mount, we returned to the car for the journey back to the holiday house. Just for a change we went to a different pub in the evening, again to “check it out”. Lenny and I just slept.
We awoke to the sound of dad making a cup of tea for mum, who was poring over a map to locate the next stop on our adventure. After we had lifted our weary bodies out of bed, and mum and dad had walked us around the local area, we got into our travel crates for the shenanigans ahead. Usually Lenny is a bit wary of the travel crate but he realised that fun was on the cards and positively leapt in and made himself comfy. We made our way to Perranporth on the north coast of Cornwall. Mum had seen some pictures of her parents here many years ago and had wondered what it was like now. Well, she was finding out exactly what it was like. Warm and sunny with a dog friendly beach.
We wandered and strolled about the town and even managed a visit to the nice sandy beach.
Saying goodbye to the beach, it was back into the car and off to somewhere shrouded in myth and legend. We drove down more winding country lanes and were duly deposited at a place called Tintagel. Lenny and I knew this is where King Arthur lived and we hoped we would be able to explore his castle. We were not disappointed as we walked across bridges, saw dilapidated castles, steep cliff and the water crashing on the rocks below. This was great fun as we explored, climbed onto lofty perches, nosed about amongst rocky outcrops and had our picture taken far too many times.
Then, for the last time on the day, we leapt into our travel crates whilst we were driven back to our holiday house. We managed to drag ourselves to the pub to “make sure it was still alright” although we really just slept and dreamed about our adventures.
In fact I am so tired now, I will finish my stories of adventures soon.
Five years ago today I was hauled unceremoniously out of my bed at some unearthly hour of the morning to be brusquely advised “Come on, we need to do a good early walk as we are off on an adventure”.
The Buckinghamshire hills
Off we went on our merry way, along the hedgerow so I could scent the critters who had spent their evening tucked away safely. We returned home far too early for my liking and I was loaded into the car and warned to “Be good”. Soon upon the first motorway we were whizzing along. We then arrived on the second motorway and seemed to be travelling for ages when we left for the normal roads and I was told to shush as they had to concentrate on where we were going. Around the lanes, across the cross roads, turning left, right then left and the car stopped. As the boot was opened the glorious sound of over a thousand beagles met my ear drums and I couldn’t help but sing the song of the breed.
We had arrived at the Beagle World Record event in Macclesfield near Manchester and my parents had kept it secret from me and, it appears from a large number of my friends. We saw our buddies straight away and again I had to greet them all in typical beagle fashion.
RaffaCharley
Then the main event arrived. We knew we had to walk around a course of about a mile to try and break the largest dog walk by a single breed. All the humans had to wear a little tracking device which showed that they had walked us around the course. We didnt know how many beagles were there, but we knew there were plenty. We knew we were up against formidable opponents as it had been Yorkshire Terriers somewhere in Mexico that currently held the record at 783 (thats a lot of Yorkies!). Anyway off we trotted around the course, through the wood, alongside the lake, through the other wood and thence back to the finish line. As we crossed the line the humans made sure their trackers were registering and then we were allowed to have fun and play. I got a certificate to say I had taken part and in lieu of us beating the record it was filled in with my name. We knew we had to wait for a while until all the beagles had been counted and the numbers verified. We wouldn’t know that day so we strolled about some more and then made our weary way back down the motorways and home.
World Record holder
A few months passed until it happened. We all got notified that we had done it. I was one of 1,029 beagles that had walked around the course. I am a world record holder. That sounds quite good to me. And I had fun too, with loads of my buddies, so thats even better.
I haven’t been on here much recently as I have been busy recuperating from the operation on my cruciate ligament back on 6th January. I know I reported progress around three weeks after the operation but thought I would let you know how I am getting on. That is of course if you are interested.
I was at the vets each Monday for about 6 weeks after the operation. I had laser treatment but I avoided wearing the trendy goggles that are normally used. I had one parent alternating each night staying downstairs with me as I was banned from stairs for over a month. It was extremely boring staying on the ground floor as I was being regaled with stories from Lenny about sleeping in his bed and being able to stretch out, not being hassled by me during the night and getting midnight snacks whilst I wasn’t there. For the first few weeks the only outside time I got was in the garden which only added to me feeling stir crazy. Then during the day my walks started although they were short and slow which was due to me healing. Also my parents said that I was normally an idiot on a walk because I can smell a squirrel/rabbit/fox/deer (delete as applicable) from around a mile away. I went along a quiet road at a slow pace to help build up the muscle wastage that I had suffered over the preceding months. My mum was doing physio sessions with me three or four times a day. My leg was being worked hard but carefully to ensure that there were no relapses. Come rain and shine I was out on a short walk and then back to the house where I shown how to exercise my leg and get stronger. Treats and a peanut butter lick mat may have helped here, so I am not putting it all down to my own will power. Suddenly I was allowed upstairs although at first I was lead walked up to my bed at night. During the day I was still restricted to downstairs but I didn’t mind too much. After a couple of weeks of being accompanied I was found upstairs as I had secretly engaged in a bout of snout jousting with Lenny which had finished with us finding the best spot to look out of the window and check squirrels in the garden. We weren’t in the proverbial good books for a while, especially until they could ensure that I hadn’t done damage to myself.
When I went back to the vets for the last time, around three weeks ago they said I was doing really well, mum was doing a great job on my rehab and physio and I could start to go on longer walks. We had to increase the mileage slowly each week from less than a mile to a mile, a mile and a quarter all the way through to a mile and a half currently. I have been going to different places and its got a bit more interesting. I sill don’t walk with Lenny as he goes for longer walks than me and we tend to compete for scents when we are together. I’ve had a couple of setbacks where I started limping a little and then my front left leg was playing up. With the aid of some medicine and anti inflammatories I seem to be on the right path now though.
From thisAnd this
I couldn’t have done it without my parents. And even Lenny helped by giving me time and space to heal. He knew I was in some discomfort as soon as I arrived home after the operation although I think that the onesie, Fentanyl patch and me looking spaced out might have given the game away.
Anyway yesterday it was 12 weeks since the operation and we went to the beach in the wind and rain. We met up with our good friend Griff who brought his parents along. We walked and there was chatter with some cake and coffee mixed in. I’d had three walks all over a mile and a half. I didn’t even realise I had gone that far and there are no ill effects today.
We actually found the Bluebird Cafe in Ferring which was an excellent place to go and very, very dog friendly. Today we have mainly been sleeping and dreaming.
To this. At Ferring Beach yesterday
I’m on the road to recovery. For a “nearly” thirteen year old beagle I feel bionic but I am being reined in by my concerned parents. There’s life in the old fella yet.
Dexter 