Absent friends

I have had several starts at writing this post, I found it hard to write and stopped dog blogging altogether. So to restart…

         The friends a dog makes in his early life remains his or her best friends forever. We have are sad to have lost three great friends last summer, all long time mates of Rocco and ours.

Ziggy with Rocco scheming away...

 Ziggy a lurcher was Rocco’s first great chum that he saw on a regular basis, he frequently came to stay during the day when his owner was at work. They loved hanging out with each other in their teenage years, playing bite-yer-face, going on walks together - or rather mad dashes through the undergrowth. They spent much of their formative years together and remained chums ever since. The lurcher way is to use-up all energy out on the walks then crash out in companionable torpor, Ziggy and Rocco were soul mates.

Ziggy Stardust (his full name).

         Phoebe, who has a genius for giving dogs a human voice and articulating what they might be saying or thinking. Ziggy had the voice of a Russian artist.

Oscar, a Spinone an Italian otter hound, who had the head of a Wooki (or maybe Wookis have heads modelled from Spinones), was staying with us when we went to the Evesham Dog Show to acquire Rocco. He strolled around the dog show like a canine Lord Emsworth and was delighted when we collected Rocco. “I say, what a fine little chap, lets take him back and see how he gets on”. Rocco could walk underneath Oscar at that time. Rocco always regarded Oscar as being an uncle and was grateful for Oscar showing him the ropes in South West London.

Oscar

They used to stay with each other but Oscar lived with cats in his household, so invitations for Rocco to stay rather dried-up. They remained mates and their relationship would instantly rekindle after separations no matter how long.

Bella, a Shar Pei came from the same litter as her life long companion Luca. The inseparable brother and sister were two halves of one soul, Bella the quieter thoughtful affectionate one, Luca full of bravado and protective of his sister. Phoebe when giving them a voice always had Luca speaking for a silent sister (“Bella says thank you for the grub. She is so lovely and polite and all that”.) Sadly cancer has split them up. Luca as a solo dog suddenly is more reliant on human company.

Luca (left) and Bella, mirroring each other.

Shar Peis are great guard dogs and the pair when staying would sleep outside our bedroom and took guarding seriously and took a dim view of anybody wanting to come or go, “Woss the password then? Sorry you got no authorisation, your not on Mr Rocco’s list, sorry and all that. Now buzz off.”

 

Le vacance

Moi, le seadog, at St Martin

Hi, c’est moi - Rocco again - back from moi vacance en France. As you can read, learning French is easy, if you spend most of your time listening as you lounge around in cafes (more of that later).

It was hot hot hot pour moi, the humans spent a lot of time in the boring swimming pool but not moi as this activity is wrong for dogs. I like to dip myself gently in a stream or perhaps the sea. That is dignified, whereas a swimming pool or even an inflatable paddling pool is undignified and wrong, obviously.

For the first time in my life, I took to getting up at (or before) dawn to demand my morning walk and it was very pleasant to survey the countryside in the cool morning air. Despite the grumpy companion, obviously.

Walk round me!

I developed a winning strategy when we all went to restaurants or cafes. I lay myself in the doorway or in the gaps between tables. It is a strange thing but the French don’t seem to mind at all and politely step over me or walk around me – very gratifying, lol.

Whilst we were en vacance the French hunting season started. For the rural French this means that they dress-up like Serbian paramilitaries and go out shooting at the few songbirds left over from last year. Every year they shoot quite a lot of each other, particularly after the compulsory boozy lunch. They are supposed to wear orange tabards but our locals regard this as sissy – can you imaging Ratko Mlidic in one? So they shoot each other instead. Gus and Judy wear their jazzier shirts when walking me in the evening.

The shooters take their dogs out with them, about the only exercise these poor chaps have all year, the French aren’t hot on walkies. On one of my morning walks we came across a couple of heavily armed locals with their springer spaniels. The shooters were pissed-off that their dogs asked me, very politely, if they could come on my walkies instead.

Gus says, in the old days (pre-revolution) only the gentry could shoot pidgeons etc and there were all kinds of laws to stop the peasants hunting - so come the revolution it became part of the birthright of the French to slaughter the songbirds. 

I confine my hunting to giving the local cats a hard time. He he he. One year a cat dashed into a farmhouse kitchen window we were passing so I followed it in through the window. I can’t think what all the fuss was about.

This year on a dawn walk I saw a cat mousing very intently in the middle of a field that had just been harvested. I dashed at it, it swore at me and ran off but not bothering to run fast, I ran after it, but making sure I wasn’t too fast as I like chasing not catching. The cat got to a telegraph pole and looked round at me saying that this was ‘homey’, it acknowledged that I had won, but couldn’t be bothered to climb the pole. I wandered off to admire the view, this unsporting animal is not the kind of cat to chase, obviously.

AAagh! What is this all about? A dog wearing pants!

APDW at St Margaret’s Fair

OMG, OMG Rocco here again. Thought I should give you the heads-up about St Margaret’s Fair, which we went to on Saturday 14 July.  Rain, rain and more rain, still at least I got out of Barnes Fair which is hell for dogs rain or not. St Margaret’s Fair is in Teddington and had a big dog event with judges giving prizes for things like ’the dog with the waggiest tale’ (pass the sick bag Alice) this is the kind of event that no self-respecting lurcher should be seen near. I slunk away before himself had time to see through all the wet anoraks and umbrellas.

The Association of Professional Dog Walkers had a marquee (kindly donated by Twickenham Veterinary Surgery). At least it was dry inside that. Humbug was with me and he got many compliments as to how sweet he was (Alice, where is that bag?) Happily he found a box of dog treats they were going to give out and gnawed his ‘sweet’ way in.

Hubert with the lucky winner

The marquee had a giant soft toy rabbit fixed on a perch that swung gently from the roof, APDW folk inviting one and all to enter the “Name the Bunny” competition. Contestants could choose from a list of possible ideas, the contestants seemed unconcerned by the fact the rabbit was larger than they were. The draw at the end of the day established that he was called Hubert (my name for it was something else).

During the day the rain varied from drizzle to downpour, with the odd clear spell. I spent my time slipping my lead and wandering off, practicing my hard done-by dog in the rain performance and kindly APDW people would rescue me, put a lead on me and take me back to himself who was trying to flog raffle tickets for the APDW charities Pets as Therapy and Guardian Angels.

When we got home and dried-off, it transpired that a large share of the raffle prizes went to us for all the tickets he flogged to himself.

APDW launch photos

Treats

The committee wearing pink sashes, (L to R) Jaya, M-J, Lucy & me. Plus assorted helpers, two and four legged.

Some pics taken by the proper, professional photographer at the APDW launch. At least is wasn't raining.

Mine

Launch of the APDW on Barnes Green

Billy stalks a tennis ball (note the APDW logo)

OMG! OMG! OMG! (Rocco writes) Last Friday was the launch of the Association of Professional Dog Walkers on Barnes Green. I came along as someone has to keep an eye on the old guy.

MJ wearing sash

He met up with several professional dog walking ladies, they put up a gazebo and put a lot of “doggy goddie bags” on a table top give out, nobody thought to give me one. There were a lot of puzzled looking dogs on leads. The dog walking ladies all wore fetching grey sashes with pink lettering spelling out the association’s name, I hoped against hope that they would make him wear one too but sadly they were not that foolhardy.

I spent my time demonstrating to the other dogs that I was exempt from lead wearing (tee hee) as he was from sash wearing.

Then him and me were off going round the green accosting people walking their mutts, giving them the goodie bags (the treats inside went down well as did the tennis ball) and ear-bashing them about the Association and how responsible we all were. I kept a straight face. Trouble was it was too close to lunch time to meet many dog owners. 

The professional dog walking ladies were somewhat shell shocked at just how unpopular the dog walkers who arrived in vans with millions of dogs had made dog walkers generally in Barnes.

They had a proper photographer in attendance, the kind of guy who kept saying “lets take that shot of that dog getting a treat again”. Nice fellow, I hope I meet him again.

Shaggy doggy lightbulb joke

How many dogs does it take to change a light bulb?

Golden Retriever: The sun is shining, the day is young, we've got our whole lives ahead of us, and you're inside worrying about a stupid burned out bulb?

Border Collie: Just one. And then I'll replace any wiring that's not up to code.

Dachshund: You know I can't reach that stupid lamp!

Rottweiler: Make me.

Boxer: Who cares? I can still play with my squeaky toys in the dark.

Lab: Oh, me, me!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeze let me change the light bulb! Can I? Can I? Huh? Huh? Huh? Can I? Pleeeeeeeeeze, please, please, please!

German Shepherd: I'll change it as soon as I've led these people from the dark, check to make sure I haven't missed any, and make just one more perimeter patrol to see that no one has tried to take advantage of the situation.

Jack Russell Terrier: I'll just pop it in while I'm bouncing off the walls and furniture.

Old English Sheep Dog: Light bulb? I'm sorry, but I don't see a light bulb?

Cocker Spaniel: Why change it? I can still pee on the carpet in the dark.

Chihuahua: Yo quiero Taco Bulb.

Pointer: I see it, there it is, there it is, right there ...

Australian Shepherd: First, I'll put all the light bulbs in a little circle ...

Poodle: I'll just blow in the Border Collie's ear and he'll do it. By the time he finishes rewiring the house, my nails will be dry.

Ridgeback: I do not take orders.  If you wish to suggest I change the bulb, I will consider this in my own time and get back to you later.

Lurcher: It isn't moving. Who cares?

The Cat's Answer: Dogs do not change light bulbs. People change light bulbs. So, the real question is: How long will it be before I can expect some light, some dinner, and a massage?

Gyppo to boyo

Bobbi practicing for his dashes down the wing for the Welsh rugby team. Move over Shane Williams.

Bye Bye Mooli and Bobby

Life seems very strange at the moment. Firstly Mooli, who arrived in December, has flown the nest, his owner picking him up on Monday evening. On Tuesday mornings walk Judy was counting her four charges, Rocco, Bobbi, Mora, Bella and Mooli. Yes, he was back - temporarily deserting his owner to join-up with the pack on Barnes Common once again. Judy was more than a little surprised.

The unsettling feeling is more pronounced by Bobby’s absence. We heard a couple of days ago that a lady in Wales had seen him on the All Dogs Matter website wanted to adopt him. All we knew of her was she has a lady lurcher of her own and likes running on beaches. We were unsettled in that we knew so little about her but Mary the person re-homing Bobbi reassured us that she would provide a good home. On Tuesday afternoon Mary turned-up, she was impressively middle class and drove an impressive Jaguar.  She told us more about Bobbi’s potential new owner who is in her 60’s but has a son living with her in the countryside. We said that if things did not work out we would have Bobbi back.

We packed Bobbi’s many coats and possessions into the boot of the jag, he hopped onto the leather back seat and with a typical dog’s disregard for saying good-bye, he was gone.

Several times over the past five months he stayed with us, we nearly said OK we would adopt him. What stopped us was Rocco’s status as top dog in our household. He is now 11 and undoubtedly the boss on our walks. However when Bobbi and he race into our garden at dusk, Bobbi made it clear that he should be top dog in the chasing cats out of our garden etc department.

 We have trained Bobbi out of a few of his bad habits but the one he never managed to break was his desire for a dash in the garden between three and four in the morning. His agitation to go out got more vocal the nearer he got to the garden door. One had to hold his collar once the door opened to stop a mad fit of triumphant barking before letting him go. We thought that he might have some kind of bladder infection so I made an appointment at the vets. The vet’s nurse gave me a tiny bottle to collect a urine sample, it had a little yellow dish-like thing to help collect the pee.

If I had little enthusiasm for the sample collecting, Bobbi had none. He found my attempts as beyond embarrassment, his cooperation less than zero. I fancy Rocco enjoyed watching. I began to think that I would have to provide the sample - but the vet might be surprised by its alcohol level. Eventually on the walk before the vet visit I kept him on the lead, walking close. Eventually Bobbi lifted the rear leg furthest from me and I lent over him and I got the sample. The vet checked Bobbi and disappeared off to the basement to analyse the sample. He returned to say there was nothing wrong with Bobbi’s bladder. So he has gone to Wales with a clean bill of health and a hearty distrust of sample collectors.