A meeting of dog walkers

Bobby's idea of a good time, needless to say this sofa is out of bounds for dogs. The photos by Phoebe,  have nothing to do with the content of this post.

When I first saw Crufts Dog Show on TV I was appalled by the judges, all battleaxes in skirts made of horse blankets. The more I learnt about the Kennel Club the worse it seemed to be. Today public pressure has meant that certain of their approved breeding practices are being reformed, if at glacial pace. Well done the BBC, declining to broadcast the show which probably has been the biggest catalyst for change and well done the programme Horizon for keeping the pressure on. 

The point of the rant above is that I am wary of professional doggy people en mass. Ironic I guess, as I am a paid up professional doggy person myself now.

Bobby feels Judy should share out her birthday chockies

Judy and I went to a meeting of dog walkers last night to discuss what positive response could be made to Richmond Council’s proposed Dog Order. My uncharitable heart sank when I saw 22 of my fellow dog professionals. I have rarely met a dog walker I did not like, each individual a member of a great breed, loving their charges and the fresh air they walk in. However, collectively it must be admitted, we are all (as Rocco would say) barking mad. 

The meeting was well run by Lucy Bonnett (www.riversidedogs.co.uk) who had talked to David Allistair (head of parks, Richmond Council) and had formed the opinion that the council were deadly serious, not least as other councils had brought in controls so shuffling the vans of rogue dog walkers into Richmond. Lucy chaired the meeting well letting everybody have their say, no matter how barking (see above).

Lucy accepted a cap on numbers of dogs walked by one person was inevitable and it was decided that we should try and persuade Richmond that six was acceptable. Everybody favoured the idea that dog walkers should be licensed but apparently the council thought this would involve great expense. Lucy had drafted a Dog Walker’s Code of Conduct, whereby we would keep to a maximum of six charges, pick up their poo, have public liability insurance etc. We signed-up to this and will try to get other dog walkers not at the meeting to do likewise.

Our friend Penny emphasises the importance of writing to the council but warns that communications must have an address on them else the council will disregard them. So please write to David Allistair (the address is on a previous post) and/or sign the online petition: http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/set-the-dog-limit-at-six

Shot (professionally)

These photos were taken when Phoebe was shooting a commercial for Jumbones (from Pedigree Petfoods). She thought Dalmatians would be perfect for the camera (and one in particular) however the focus groups plumped for beagles* - the finished ad derives from Phoebe’s vocalisations of Mooli’s thought processes.

Phoebe mentioned Mooli to the director who said she would photograph him, at the end of the shoot. So I was summonsed to bring Mooli and Rocco to an industrial estate in Perivale (one of the industrial estates that time forgot) where the shoot was taking place. The fundamental rule of all shoots is that they always take far longer that anybody could believe. Mooli and Rocco and I had plenty of waiting time, in the dark, to discover why Time was so keen to forget the acres of crinkly metal buildings and discarded industrial junk that comprised this industrial estate. Mooli was rather miffed that the director thought that Rocco was more photographic. Still, Jumbones all round.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkPBiDnvwnQ

The Pedigree Petfoods client team has a sense of humour, they went along with Phoebe’s agency April Fool stunt last year. Presenters on a live shopping channel pretended to sell Doggie Dentures, previously seen in a Dentastix ad.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=a3boXty-naU&feature=endscreen

*Mooli: “Everybody knows beagles smoke.”                        




Traumatic times at the vets.

Rocco last year

A neighbour kindly gave us a bone for Rocco on Monday. It was a cooked gammon one, as far as we can recall. It is not the best idea to give bones that have been cooked to dogs as they can splinter. Previously Rocco has had no problem with these bones, he eats an end then Judy will scoop out the marrow for him. However this time we think bone fragments have caused him considerable discomfort. He did not eat on Tuesday and was constipated, yesterday he was no better so we took him to MediVet.

The lady vet was the kind of angel everybody would hope to look after them in moments of need. Poor Rocco was desperately embarrassed by her attentions and remained constipated, he stayed with them for an x-ray and further overnight treatment. At the time of writing he is still there. The walk this morning was one where I had three young daytime guests romping about in wonderful spring sunshine whilst Bobby put on a show of his lightning speed (ignored by Mooli). I wished my pal was with us.


(Edit 23 March, Rocco cheerfully came home last night and almost back to normal).
(Edit 26 March, normal service resumed).

A dog and bone story – When I was a fourteen, on a family holiday in Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, I took Rolley, our Labrador retriever, for an afternoon walk, we started on a green by the yacht club then a beach until a path took us through some woods eventually reaching a country church. The vicar was conducting a burial in the churchyard, well attended by soberly dressed mourners.

What followed was pure gothic horror. Rolley disappeared amongst the grassy tombstones only to surface with a large bone in his mouth decorated by earth, grass and dried blood. He dashed amongst the scattering crowd of mourners, to proudly present me with the bone. I had vamoosed back into the wood. The bone was from an ox, showing traces of a butcher’s saw. I never walked through that wood again.

Richmond Council's Proposed Dog Control Order

Hmmmm. 


Richmond Council propose to bring in a Dog Dog Control order. The following is our letter to the functionary behind the proposal:

Regarding Notice of Intention to Make a Dog Control Order 16 March 2012

Dear Mr Allister,

We wish to make a representation regarding this order. We run a small business (The Dog Hotel) in the borough looking after people’s dogs in our home whilst their owners are on holiday. Part of the care we offer is two walks a day of about an hour’s duration. The number of animals in our care rarely exceeds six (one of which is ours and another is being looked after on a pro bono basis until a home can be found for him). When we walk the dogs we ensure they are under our control and we clear-up after them as we are required to do.

The proposed Dog Control Order would limit us to four dogs. This would make our business uneconomic, and we may have to close. The service we offer is not all for profit. We often help exercise the dogs of elderly or ill people. Restricting the numbers of dogs as proposed will impact negatively on this service.

We understand that the borough’s residents may well be concerned about the activities of some dog walkers who use commercial vans to transport their charges. These walkers often have little control over their charges once they are loose. We share this concern.

We are licensed dog walkers in Wimbledon Common where the limit is six dogs, two of which must be on a lead. Would it not be better if Richmond-upon-Thames adopted this limit? We support the concept of Richmond licensing dog walkers and would support and help enforce a Dog Walkers Code of Conduct.

Yours faithfully,

Gus and Judy Coulton 
---


Readership of this blog are scattered worldwide, from USA, Canada, France and Russia as well as the UK. If you consider that Richmond Council's proposed Dog Control Order is too restrictive, please email David Allister at: Parks&Trees@richmond.gov.uk - I am sure he would be keen to hear from you.   

A shaggy doggy story

This photo has nothing to do with the story. It is of a Cavapoo disputing a stick with a cockerpoo. "Its my birthday, so it must be mine." Says the one-year-old Cockerpoo...

In a break between shots, when I was art directing the photographs for an annual report, Michael the photographer and I got to chatting. Dogs came up, as they do, and he told me a story about his saluki.

He had been living and working in Kuwait when he acquired the dog. Eventually he decided to re-locate to the UK, as he had a ton of photographic equipment he and his Dutch girlfriend decided to drive back overland in his old Land Rover. The first leg of the journey involved driving to Jordan through Saudi Arabia. All was set for the journey, until the Saudis decided to solve a wild dog problem by shooting all dogs not proven to be owned by a Saudi.

Michael’s dog was dosed-up with sleeping pills and settled in the car, at the feet of his girlfriend, covered by a voluminous long skirt. They passed through the customs inspection without incident and somewhere along an otherwise deserted road the sleeping dog was carried to the back, hidden from the front seats by a curtain.

They were stopped by road block a thirty miles from the Jordanian border. A couple of stroppy heavily armed policemen took an age to inspect the paperwork. Suddenly the passport inspection was interrupted by the saluki, thrusting his head through the curtains and barking at the Saudi policemen.

‘What did you do?’ I asked. ‘Only one thing to do,’ said Michael, ‘my foot hit the accelerator and we took off as fast as I could.’

The poo bag fairy does not exist

The subject of this post is not suitable for illustration - so here is Bobby asking Mooli if he minds being the electric hare.

The Circle of Life song in The Lion King explains that the antelopes eat the grass, the lions eat the antelopes and their droppings provide nutrition to the grass etc. Not much of this happens in South West London.

Things change and one of the most tactile of the changes of the last ten years, is the increasing importance of the disposal of what our local council term ‘dog waste’. Gentle readers of a delicate disposition, please read no further.

The general idea is that dog owners scoop-up their dog’s poo in a plastic bag, which is then tied-up and dropped in a bin, provided that one is provided, if not the fragrant parcel must be carried until a bin is found. Everybody has different scruples as to how meticulous they are in this observance. I take the view that one should keep footpaths clear and grassy areas on which children might conceivably walk or play. Woods, scrubland and long grass are another matter. (edit: now I have signed-up to the local dog walker's charter, I am more scrupulous).

What is extraordinary are the dog owners who scoop-up their dog’s ‘waste’, no doubt feeling jolly virtuous. They then leave the neat little bag in situ or against the bole of the nearest tree. Their assumption must be that someone will come along and take the little package away - probably the poo bag fairy. There are several problems with this unrealistic expectation, not least it takes littering to a higher level. Dog poo, left to itself, vanishes fairly quickly but plastic bags filled with it are going to decorate otherwise green spaces for years.

So please spread the news – The Poo Bag Fairy is a myth. 


PS The Tooth Fairy does exist.

Unseasonable Christmas post

Santa's little helper

The addition of three guests to our Christmas last year meant is was a very festive occasion. Two of them are old friends and for one it was her first Christmas and like most first
Christmas-ers the wrapping paper was a major attraction.

They played a full part in helping gather the holly from the common, in decorating the tree and opening the gifts, (don't mention the carol singing). They would have liked to have contributed more to the preparation of the food and the feasting but sadly we have to take regard for special diets and for one particular waistline. The noise from the first cracker we pulled was all too alarming so we still have a box of crackers sitting on top of the fridge. ‘Why,’ asks Phoebe ‘don’t the RSPCA market a range of silent fireworks for dog owners?’

All the guests had their own wrapped-up presents which got swapped and swapped back several times.

But I asked for a squirrel

Decorating the tree

 A few years back Mooli spent Christmas with us. Inevitably he sniffed out an unguarded box of liqueur chocolates and scoffed the lot, coloured silver paper and all. I can’t remember if it was his moaning or the discovery of the looted box but there was an emergency dash to Medivet where the poor fellow had his stomach pumped.          He would do the same again, so it must have been worth it.


Most photos taken by Phoebe.

Opening the presents

Mine all mine

Year before last - Seth orders breakfast

Frank O'Phile writes

For Francophiles, like myself, who need a thrice-weekly slice of French life, one can do no better than read Kristin Espinasse’s blog, which provides gentle and humorous lessons in love, life and language, whilst adding French words to ones vocabulary that never featured in my French classes at school. Originally from Arizona, she now lives in a farmhouse with a vineyard, run by Jean-Marc her husband (the Chief Grape) near the Châteauneuf-du-Pape vineyards - his Rouge et Bleu wine is truly formidable, our choice for Christmas lunch (see below). Kristin's stories are complimented by photographs - the kinds of sideways glimpses of French life and landscape, I wish I could have taken.

http://french-word-a-day.typepad.com/motdujour/

Smokey and Blaize, Kristin's dogs

I met them at a wine event in Earls Court a couple of years ago. I said how much I enjoyed her blog and she suggested I wrote one. So with her encouragement I have finally set mouse to keyboard or something.

Her books, distilled from the blogs, are the best birthday present anybody could give or receive.

To quote from Booklist: Espinasse's "definitions" come from her everyday experiences, particularly those provoked by her children's frequent delight at their mother's mistakes, misuses, and mispronunciation of words. When her son asks her to pass the ficelle, she searches the table for a string, not comprehending at first that the same word applies to an exceptionally narrow loaf of bread. Her daughter's loss of a baby tooth reminds Espinasse that French children earn a visit from the little mouse, not the tooth fairy.

Mistral red 2009 :

- 90 points on the Wine Spectator : "Rich and smoky, with mouthfilling charcoal, roasted fig, tobacco and plum sauce notes all rolling through the broad finish. This has muscle, but stays accessible and balanced. Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèdre and Roussanne. Drink now. 1,000 cases made. –JM"

Do dogs laugh?

Let sleeping dogs...

TV newscasters warns us 'the next item may contain flash photography', helpful to those who might be affected. So why can’t radio and TV programme makers give dog owners similar warning of doorbells being about to be rung?

Seth on a zizz.

Do dogs have a sense of humour? They certainly demonstrate joi de vie with tail-wagging body language, but does their appreciation of a situation give them amusement? When our family was all laughing at something, Jumble would thump his tail so as to join in but I doubt he got the joke.

As mentioned I am trying to avoid anthropomorphising dogs, (my spelling is so bad that it took me several goes to get close enough to ‘anthropomorphise’ for SpellCheck to bother to correct me, even them it wants to put a Z in it somewhere). When my hat blew off on a recent walk the cockerpoos gleefully grabbed it for a game of tag and tug of war. Watching them, Rocco bumped his hindquarters on my leg and caught my eye. He was saying ‘They’ve got you’.

On an another walk Mooli found a pink and yellow tennis ball and presented it to me to throw. My attempt was a bad one as the ball rebounded against a tree and vanished into bramble bushs. The Dalmatian gingerly searched for it without, it seemed, success. ‘OK, I’ll have a look’. I waded into the prickly embrace of the brambles, being unsuccessful in the search I was aware of both dogs watching me. Mooli concerned to be helpful dropped the pink and yellow ball from his mouth and wandered over to help. Once we had restarted the walk Rocco gave me the ‘Gotcha’ thump on my leg.