The land of scones, cream and jam

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”.

Lenny saying goodbye to Sennen Cove on our last full day.
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.

Cream or jam first

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”.

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.

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.

I am a Teenager

According to the people I live with, today is my birthday. This day was chosen as no one really knows for sure when my actual birthday is.

I am something called a teenager as I have hit the ripe age (for a dog) of thirteen. I don’t know what being a teenager entails but if it means that I get loads more tickles and treats, I am hoping I get to be a teenager for ever now. Even Lenny is being nice to me.

To be sensible for a moment I must admit that I am lucky as I am safe, loved and live a good life. I am grateful for these things as there are many other dogs that don’t enjoy the privileges.

The whirlwind remains

Today marks four years since Lenny came to live with me.

I was surprised to see people at the door to my house. I was assailed by a pup of about eight months of age and we proceeded to run around like idiots having fun. When the ladies who delivered Lenny left we kind of looked at each other with some trepidation and then proceeded to run our parents ragged for about two weeks whilst we got used to living together. It was like dropping a furry hand grenade into my life.

He’s been here four years. We have been to all sorts of places, seen many things and met many people. Lenny has settled into his life of safety. He has learned some commands and knows he will get ear tickles and head scratches if he’s a good lad.

Whisper this but I am so pleased he’s here. We may annoy each other and do silly things but I know he’s safe and loved which is the best thing ever. Happy fourth Gotcha Day Lenny Lendog.

So, there I was.

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.

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.

12 weeks and counting.

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.

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.

Bugsy has fallen

Before Christmas I read about one of my longest known friends who had been diagnosed with a tumour in his leg which was inoperable. His parents surrounded him with love and showered him with attention as they knew that he would be making his longest journey in the near future. When I saw the news my heart filled with so much sadness. It was sadness that this would be his last days, weeks or months and that I knew another of my oldest friends would be leaving us.

Bugsy beagle was born on 7 December 2011 and arrived at his forever home on 9 February 2012. He immediately ingratiated himself on everyone and made an instant impression on his mums heart. He quickly became the chief meeter and greeter at his mums spa in the Midlands. Everyone who worked there, or visited, knew Bugsy was around either through seeing him in the office or hearing him in the office. He made the place his own as you would expect of a cheeky, happy and very much loved beagle.

When I joined social media in December 2013 Bugsy was one of the first dogs that I communicated with. Always happy to lend me an ear, tell me where I was going wrong with training parents or explaining how to use the “eyes” to score extra treats, I knew I could rely on Bugsy to come up with the goods.

He was “best dog” at his parents wedding and then welcomed a human brother in February 2019. He said he was a little confused that there was a new pup who was getting showered with attention although Bugsy did admit that he grew to like his new brother particularly at meal times when the number of snacks strangely increased. Bugsy was at the centre of a loving home and knew his cheekiness and fun would always ensure he remained endeared to all who met him, but specially his parents.

And so it was that I heard the news before Christmas that he was unfortunately quite poorly. The initial few weeks turned into a month and then to six weeks. All the time he was stoic in his attitude ensuring that he upheld the tradition of the beagle by baying loudly, never missing a treat and making sure his family knew where he was. After a course of medicine the final X-Ray showed what had been feared, had actually happened. It was to be his time. Time for the worst decision but the most loving decision. Time for the sadness and reflection to flow and envelope him in the love that had cradled him throughout his life. He made his final and longest journey being cuddled by his mum and he was allowed to sleep his longest sleep.

Bugsy, my friend, travel well and sleep easy. Those who have gone before will guide you to the everlasting meadow where the sun shines warmly upon your fur. There is no more pain, no more suffering for your time here has concluded. You have left the most giant of paw prints on the hearts of your parents who will never let you leave their minds. You will continue to make them smile, to laugh at your naughtiness and to remember your life and all its adventures.

Run free Bugsy. I am honoured to be called your friend. May your path be lit for you to find those who have gone before. Rest easy.

Why do they love us so much?

Three weeks ago today I was delivered to my local vets so that my bad leg could be fixed. I was put under anaesthetic and the vet surgeon opened up my rear right knee. He later told us that my “cruciate had completely broken” complementing that with “he’s in a lot of pain” and they couldn’t tell how long I had been in discomfort. I had something called a TPLO (Tibial Plateau Levelling Osteotomy) which I wont describe in case you are squeamish or have eaten your dinner recently. I was placed under house arrest in the vets overnight so they could observe me.

I arrived home the following day to see that I was still under some form of house arrest which was being dressed up as something for my benefit and to avoid any incidents or damages occurring whilst I healed. Lenny saw me wobble into the house and duly retired to his (one of my) bed to observe me from a safe distance.

To be honest I don’t remember much about the first couple of days due to being subdued by various pills, potions and drug patches to help the pain. I didn’t even realise that I was wearing what is colloquially known in the canine fraternity as the Cone of Shame. Imagine wearing a lampshade upside down on your neck and looking like a Frilled Lizard. Indeed, not a good look for a rufty tufty beagle. I did have the use of a surgical onesie, as well as a long sock type object called a Licksleeve. This covered my leg and meant that I couldn’t lick the leg or knee. What with the Cone of Shame, the Licksleeve and my onesie I was trussed up more fully than Hannibal Lecter.

It had even escaped my notice for the first few days that I was not allowed to go upstairs to my normal bed and that I had a parent sleeping downstairs with me. Again to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid, as if it would cross my mind to lick or chew the operation site. Lead walks in the garden, pills at regular intervals, rest, sleep and then more sleep were interspersed with food. Back to the vet on Monday and my pain killer patch was taken off which was a relief as it meant I could dispense with the onesie at least. I was given my first session of gentle physio and was checked over by the vet who performed my operation. All appeared well and I was allowed home, but I was still under house arrest.

Two more vet visits and I am feeling much better. I get physio three or four times a day whilst Lenny gets training elsewhere in the house. The parents are still swapping over each night to sleep downstairs with me until I am given the all clear to resume the normality of being a beagle. I have another week at least of downstairs rest after which I will be assessed further. I seem to be making quick progress with standing on all legs, building up my leg muscles and being more mobile and comfortable walking about. The infernal Cone of Shame is still there, although I noticed over the last couple of days that it is being removed more frequently. I am not chewing or licking my leg as much as was feared so it is hoped that with the wound healing, the fur growing back and my general mobility getting better, I can be without the Cone for ever soon. I even managed some “helicopter tail” for one of my parents when he returned home a few days ago from running chores.

So, why do they love us so much? When I was away in the vet hospital I understand that the house was quieter, there were fewer shenanigans and even Lenny missed me. Both parents were thinking about me and hoping that the operation would be successful of course. But in the first instance they wanted me back home in one piece. Now I am back there is still a great deal of upheaval in the house and I am still not allowed upstairs. I’m not resting as much as they would like and I am being kept from doing too much too early so I can repair my leg properly. They are very happy that I seem to be walking well now. It’s only been three weeks and I am feeling better every day.

One of my good friends, Zack, had the same operation on the same day. He too seems to be recovering well and we have promised each other that we would heal together, repair properly but not make it a race. I suspect his house was pretty quiet whilst he was away having his operation too. Even his brother would have missed not having him around for a day or so.

Maybe its the instinct to nurture that makes our parents feel sad and anxious when we aren’t around. We are very lucky that we are loved and pampered. Is it our cheekiness, our sense of fun as well as our ability to weedle our way into hearts to pull those proverbial strings? Maybe that’s why they love us so much.

Well, that was an adventure

A yearly review always seems to be on the cards so I will dispense with the long winded wordiness about what we did and didn’t do this year. Essentially we had fun, went on adventures, lost some dear buddies and remained loved throughout.


We lost my sweet cousin Minnie to the horrid C. Rest easy fur cousin.

For the rest of the month we rested and I felt melancholy.


Lenny and I were accused of being “thick as thieves” as we seemed to be plotting shenanigans after chicanery. Not sure what they meant.

Storm Eunice introduced herself to the UK and Lenny was out the day after to check the destruction she had wrought.


Spring sprung and the blossom bloomed.

We enjoyed the days becoming warmer and the sun on our fur.


We went on separate walks so we could explore at our our own pace.

I enjoyed pulling parents along the lanes.


Vampires slept whilst all around them got on with their lives.

I took the chance to catch up on my sleep as well.


Taking time to survey my patch is always important.

But then we found the Paw Paddock at Horsham (actually its nearer to Warnham). I was a puppy again.


Then we found Paw Paddock Horsham again.

Enough said.

Ok, one more at Paw Paddock Horsham.


We lost Tyrrell, one of the best beagle pals you could ever wish for. Rest easy sweetie.

We also got to explore a place called Whiteways near Amberley. Phew, what a scorcher.

We also lost Eddy. He was one of my oldest friends. We had met a few years ago and strolled about. He was another rufty tufty beagle lad. Rest easy Eddy dude.


We explored the beach at Goring By Sea. We were supposed to be at Ferring but thanks to dad we didn’t get there.

My favourite place anywhere. Just beautiful.


The nights started to draw in and our beds seemed more comfy each day.

We ensured that at least one parent had to sit on the edge of the sofa.


We lost the most beautiful and wonderful Nut beagle. Rest easy sweetie.

We soaked up the last warmth of the sunshine.


Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone.

Time for more thoughts about what lies ahead.

And with that the year ends. I am fortunate to be loved and safe, to have a multitude of friends and to have a happy life. Sometime in early January 2023 I am off to the vet to have my leg fixed so I can try to run around again chasing Lenny like a “fur possessed”. Shenanigans will have to wait sadly.

Best wishes to all for the coming year, may you all stay safe and remain loved.

My Anniversary

On 19th December 2013 I was safe. I had been adopted and found a good home which was warm, dry and had two people who were prepared to do their utmost to give me a good life. Essentially everything that I needed. I had no idea what Christmas meant and looked quizzically at the green tree covered with lights, in the corner of the room but I knew I was safe.

Now I have been here for nine years and I have gained a brother, been on so many adventures and got too many friends to mention. I now realise that it is Christmas and every other celebration every day.

It’s my Gotcha Day which, for a rescue, is the most important day in our life.

I may have suffered some fur fade, and one of my legs may not be playing nicely at the moment, but I am safe and loved. That is the most important thing.