There we were, halfway through November, and the Cone of Shame was not weighing me down. Days were fun, nights were quiet, even tranquil and life was good.
All at once it began, the itchiness, the urge to stick my paw into my ear to scratch the itch and to roll my head on the rug to try and alleviate the incessant urge to make my ears raw with the application of my paws. My parentals looked at one another, sighed loudly, felt sad for me and made the inevitable phone call to the v-e-t who was of course glad to assist. Duly loaded into my travel crate I was off to my second home, a short distance of some eight miles to go and see one of the vets. I seem to be on first name terms with them by now. I was examined and some swabs taken for analysis both at the v-e-t as well as off to the lab. This was all done last week and we waited until yesterday to hear the results. Oh how exciting I have another ear infection which is different to the previous ear infection. Joy of joys (insert appropriate levels of sarcasm here). So, here I am, being dog-handled twice a day by the parentals so the new ear drops can be administered to my itchy lugs.
So there you have it. My freedom from the Cone of Shame was brief and I am now returned to its grasp around my neck. Cue comments such as “where is flowerpot head?” and “here comes the frilled lizard?”. When will this ignominy end? When will I be free from the clutches of the CoS. Is this destined to be my life from here on?
The quiet one will be me. Those who know me, and who have met me, will be aware that I am rarely quiet but that’s another story.
So, I have been quiet on here as well as on other unnamed platforms, for a while now. With the help of my assistants we have been dealing with a few symptoms of old age creeping up on me and I have been neglecting my duties on here. Also I am not yet ready to hand over the editorial reins to my young vampiric assistant Lenny.
Since around last November I have spent most of my waking hours along with those of slumber, in a piece of torture equipment that is known by us furry fiends as the Cone of Shame.
I have been biting my paws, gnawing my legs, scratching my ears and itching my chin pretty much relentlessly. Through numerous visits to the vet I have been on many potions and lotions to try and alleviate my inability to avoid scratching and biting my various extremities to such a degree that my ears became infected, the ears were also scratched raw, I was chewing my legs to the extent that I was pulling the fur out and finally, my chin was red raw as a result of me incessantly scratching the itch. I have been tortured by my itchy demons until quite recently when I visited the vet and was seen by a person I had not encountered before. Swabs were taken of my ear infection, the source was identified, lotion administered and the ear problem subsided. Then it was onto the paws and chin which needed an injection to be given in my rump to settle down the symptoms. I got the injection on 29th September and the problem started to calm down within a few days. I was still in the Cone of Shame as my feet couldn’t resist trying to make their merry way toward my ears and chin until last Friday 10th October. I was snuggled up on the sofa next to my favourite assistant and she removed the Cone. I snoozed quietly. After we had been into the garden for our final business trip of the day I was expecting to see the Cone making its evil way back toward my neck, but it strangely stayed away. I slept without the fiendish device on Friday, found myself without the Cone all day Saturday including my sleeping time. Yesterday I was once more allowed to be outside of the Cone. I haven’t scratched, I’m not itchy and I don’t feel the need to rake my chin and ears, with my toes.
There is a general feeling of relief around the house that I am on the path toward a happier retirement from my duties and that I can live out my days pretty much without the infernal item being attached to me. There is some way to go, my assistants watch me like hawks and I often get warning glares if I become too frantic with my scratching. I may be writing on here a bit more often, you never know. Moral of my tail is, I suppose, that even us beagles have to listen to other people now and then as it seems to be in our best interests. Getting old isn’t necessarily fun or all its cracked up to be. Hopefully I can age disgracefully now, without the Cone being used too frequently.
A short blog to celebrate Lenny going on longer and more interesting walks. We often don’t get walked together as we tend to try and outdo each other in the idiot stakes. Same scent, same bit of field food, bashing into one another whilst dragging our respective parental along, that sort of thing.
So it was last week that Lenny decided he would take a path less travelled and drag dad along for the fun of it. Along the lane and cross the road, through the Discovery centre and then traverse the big road to find themselves on the lane leading to Stokesay Castle. Lenny walked straight past the castle and continued to the railway level crossing. He waited patiently for dad to check for trains and then open the gate to cross the tracks (very carefully people!!). Along the dirt track and uphill to the edge of Stokesay Wood where the forestry operations were underway. I think they are removing the non native trees and replacing them with broad leaf native varieties.
As the turned right and hugged the lower tree line, Lenny was forging ahead and making sure that dad didn’t slack behind him. Under fallen trees, over fallen trees, through muddy swamp puddles and all the while following the path as it curved away through the cool shaded woodland. They arrived at a stile which Lenny couldn’t get over ( or under) so it was decided that they would follow the path for a while longer. Only after another mile or so did they see a sign that said “Private, no public access” but they didn’t have much of a choice as they were most of the way along the lane. Continuing to the end of the gravel track they appeared on a road much less travelled and turned right back towards home. Lenny was flagging at this point and they found a small stream so he could have some water to renew his vigour. On they marched, over the hill and down past the smaller wood called Sallow Coppice. Across the next busy road and they found themselves on the back roads through the town and onto the common in front of our house. Arriving home it was as much as Lenny could do to have another drink and eat his breakfast. He retired to the sofa to sleep off his exertions before he could recount his tale to me.
I was very impressed at his 7 mile walk. I think he will do it again. I am also pleased that he is getting to find his paws on walks that he enjoys, despite it being without me to “guide” him.
I had no idea, I really didn’t. However we have had two exciting walks in two days and now my assistant has one arm longer than the other.
There we were yesterday as I woke up the assistants by being ill on the carpet. I had been worried by something on Wednesday and it affected me. It’s happened before and will probably happen again. I am a somewhat sensitive fella who is unable to relax, according to local sources.
In any case, Lenny and I were taken out onto the field in front of the house yesterday for a quick stroll about. We had seen car keys going into pockets which gave us the clue that we were soon to be exploring further afield. As we came back toward the house we found ourselves loaded into our travel crates and off down the lane we went. Turn right, then left, follow the road, off the slip road, over the road bumps and then right along a lane that a mouse would struggle to navigate but, somehow, we managed it in the car. We parked, the boot was opened and we let anyone who was in earshot, in Ludlow, know that we had arrived. Out and along the lane we went, toward the piggery. It should be noted at this juncture that there were a large number of puddles, muddy field entrances, muddy puddles and “field food” kindly left by the local wildlife. Lenny and I set about grazing on the snacks and our assistants set out trying to stop us. I was also trying to navigate through the dirtiest of the puddles whilst Lenny tried to avoid them. This was a battle of wills eventually won by the assistants who turned us around before we actually arrived at the piggery. This was very disappointing as we spied many, many snacks that we would have enjoyed very much. As a result of our disappointment I made it my job to try and get as filthy as possible on the return journey to Ludlow whilst Lenny made it his job to circumnavigate as many puddles as possible. He got praised, for some reason. I don’t think he’s a beagle sometimes. Anyway, we walked past the car and turned up the hill by the castle and then through the town where there was a very interesting craft market taking place. We strolled, investigated shop doorways and strolled some more until Lenny and I realised that our stomach alarm clocks were ringing very loudly. It was two hours past breakfast and this error had to be rectified. We encouraged our assistants to return to the car by trying to pull them back down the steep hill which, in turn, caused much grumbling from the top end of the leads. Having returned home we had breakfast and settled down for the rest of the day. Due to beagle wrangling there were no pictures of our shenanigans so you’ll have to take my word for our escapades.
Onto this morning and there was no strolling past the car. We were let out into the garden to run around like a couple of fools. We didn’t let anyone down. Duly harnessed up we were loaded again into the car for another adventure. I looked at Lenny who looked at me. Nope, no idea what was going on but two adventures in two days? We aren’t going to complain (too much). Down the lane, turn right, right again for about seven miles, left, across the crossroads and park. We had arrived in Church Stretton at the base camp of the Long Mynd. Unloaded from the boot we proceeded to try and pull our assistants whilst forgetting that we are connected to them and they are stronger than us. Through the gate and up the hill we went. The road snaked to the left, the sheep looked down at us from the bankside and we tried not to look at the sheer drop into Carding Mill Valley. As we climbed further we were back out into the sunshine and the views stretched away for miles both in front and behind us. Past Snailbeach and onward we went.
Past the Ratlinghope road sign and we could see the hill cresting in the distance. Lenny was beginning to flag now so I pushed on regardless. He has no stamina that brother of mine. We got to the next ridge and looked over in Wales. The views were brilliant and we turned round to look back across the top of the hill we had just conquered.
Lenny had avoided walking in puddles on the way up but he seemed intent on walking through the puddles, bracken and grassy paths on the descent. I was in no mood to stop him as I was trying to drag my assistant up and down the grassy banks, whilst whimpering at the sheep and ponies, looking over the vertiginous drop into Carding Mill Valley and making sure that she got a full body workout whilst wrangling me.
Arriving back at the car we noticed our stomach alarm clocks going off again and this time it was over two hours since breakfast should have been served.
We arrived home and had to suffer the ignominy of having a wet wash and wipe down before we could tuck into our breakfast, albeit very late. A quick run around the house followed by a session of bitey face led to an allegation of us being a couple of idiots and we were told to go and find our beds. Lenny went off to one of my snoozing beds so we had more bitey face to sort out that difficulty. Eventually we were able to settle into a routine of snoozing, snoring and circling. A good day was had by all. Well, me and Lenny enjoyed it. So there it is, I learned that beagle wrangling is a thing. Who knew?
Apologies I nearly forgot, I should wish you all a Happy New Year for 2025 firstly.
For a first blog of the year I was hoping it would be a bit more upbeat and fun, however it seems that my ear problems have continued. After Christmas it was noticed that my ears were itchy and the eczema type problem had returned. Not wishing to take any chances with an infection getting worse I was carted off to the vet on New Years Eve so they could examine me. Having arrived I made my presence known to the kind ladies on reception and then galloped joyfully in to see the vet lady. She checked my ears, sniffed them and then put an otoscope into my ears. It felt like she was looking at my brain. I managed to ignore the parent who accompanied me and was making jokes about the light shining through from one ear to the other. It was confirmed that my condition had returned and I was given a different potion to be administered twice a day for a week or so.
Upon arriving home I was entombed once more in the Cone of Shame and strolled about wondering what was happening. The potion has been applied morning and evening now for a few days and my ears are cleaned regularly. One advantage of the potion is that it makes me feel deaf so I have an excellent excuse for not listening to the parents, apart from being called for breakfast, dinner and walks. I still fool around and try to start bitey face games with Lenny but it’s getting a bit much now, having to wear the Cone of Shame so regularly. I am allowed to sleep without wearing it although, to be honest, its quite comfy and keeps my face and ears warm.
I suppose the moral is that I am getting toward fifteen years old, I am going to have some issues and need to just get on with life. I have a home, beds, food, walks, tickles, a brother and pals who like me. It could be worse. I shall soldier on and, in the meantime, adventures need to be attended to.
Today is the anniversary of my arrival in my rescue home. Eleven years ago I strolled into a house which had two people who would spend their days running around after me to make sure I remain comfortable, safe and loved. And fed of course, very important is the food aspect.
I have managed two house moves, welcomed a new brother and kept everything running smoothly for twelve Christmases now. Little wonder that I have aged and feel a bit wobblier on my paws. Will I make it to next Christmas? Who knows as I am fourteen after all. I am going to try and be around then. In the meantime I suppose I should thank my assistants for looking after me, as well as be grateful to Lenny for being a good pal and brother.
Gotcha Days as they are known in the canine rescue community are special days as we can finally get the chance to feel safer, have a roof over our heads, food in our bowls and be able to say
There we were last Sunday morning, awakening to the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains where Lenny peeks out into the garden, hoping to see rabbits or squirrels cavorting across our grounds. Somewhat deflated on this occasion he returned to his bed and laid there nibbling a patch of fur on his leg which was giving him the itches.
When the parents connected us to our leads and harnesses we had no idea what was about to occur. Out of the garden and Lenny was immediately onto a strong scent. He didn’t make it past the car. Suddenly we were being loaded into our prison crates for another adventure. We fairly leapt into the car and settled down for the trip ahead. Out of the road, turn right, right again, then left after a while. Follow the road was the comment from the front of the car. As the road snaked away we realised that we were somewhere new when we passed a sign that said “Powys Croeso i Gymru”. We turned right and slowly climbed the hill, along narrow lanes which needed some careful navigation. After a while we arrived in a carpark along a very narrow and bumpy lane. The boot was opened and scent filled our noses. Welcome to Roundton Hill Nature Reserve read the sign on the gate.
Roundton Hill was an Iron Age hill fort around 2,000 years ago. Since then it has been grazed and even used for mining precious metals. Nowadays it’s an excellent lookout point for the surrounding area. Out of the car and along the grass track, through the gate and up the hill, head right and through the next gate, across the field and still we were climbing. We could peek through the hedge at the landscape beyond and we were loving every moment.
Our noses were to the ground and I was puffing like a steam train uphill and down dale, through gates and across fields. As we passed through the last gate we realised we had gone slightly the wrong route but it didn’t matter as the views away into Wales were great.
We saw the top of Roundton Hill and vowed to come back soon so we could try to get to the summit. Retracing our steps we descended to the car and were returned to our travel crates for the journey home.
I am originally from Wales, so it was good to see where I came from. The views were great and it was really quiet, apart from the sheep bleating and the odd errant song of the beagle breed. We have been promised a return so we can actually summit Roundton Hill. For now we sleep and dream of a good day had by all.
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.
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.
Thats Wales over there.
Unloaded from our comfy travel beds we proceeded into the field via the kissing gate and set our sights up hill along the path.
Lenny looking to go to the cow field
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.
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.
Dexter 