Bertie demonstrates the WFT beard swirl

Gail tells me that we are about to set off for England for a few days, to see friends and relatives for the first time in over 16 months. Apparently there is a heat wave Down South and I am supposed to be grateful she just spent an arm and a leg getting the A/C in her car finally fixed, especially for me.

I think I'm worth it, don't you?

Blog service may be interrupted over the next week,

Beard envy?

Until this week, I had always taken my beard for granted.

I'm sure you have noticed that I am blessed with a luxuriant abundance of facial hair. Gail does trim it quite often - who knows how long the furs would grow without interference.

So anyway, I was walking in the park on Saturday morning when a Welsh terrier called Taffy and his owner stopped for a chat. The lady commented admiringly on my fine fuzzy fizzog and, no doubt to the embarrassment of poor Taffy, noted how thin and feeble his beard seemed in comparison.

At least Gail spared Taffy's blushes and did not take a photo of him. But I have to say, I do believe I detected a touch of envy in his eyes as he glanced at my bushy schnozzle and then contemplated his own wispy affair.

Do you have a beard and is it a source of pride too?

PS Gail tells me that this is not a polite question to ask a human lady of a certain age. Or in fact any age. Can that be true...?

Bertie bags Ben Wyvis

Have you any idea how hard it is to keep your ears in order and your beard looking neat when on top of a Scottish mountain on a windy day?


Oh the trials of being a wire-haired fox terrier with flappy little ears and a profusion of facial fuzz!


Gail and I ascended a  'Munro'* on Sunday. Ben Wyvis is the massive hill you can see on a clear day if you look northwards from Inverness. It was our first big hill climb for a while. It is all too common at these latitudes that benign conditions at the base give way to something altogether different, and almost always much windier, by the time one reaches the sub-Arctic environment of the summit plateau.





So annoying to be beaten to the top by this wee fellow (although I note he was not suffering from the same beard and ear issues as yours truly).


I should point out that Gail was looking every bit as dishevelled as me, although she seemed neither to notice nor care, perhaps because she is not the one who has to pose for all the photos in this blog! Anyway, she was too busy being enraptured by the panorama that opened up as we processed along the broad ridge, with the iconic outline of Suilven just visible in the far northwest, and nearer to the east a line of drilling rigs marching up the deep waters of the Cromarty Firth.

I'll be honest with you, towards the end of the nearly nine mile walk I was feeling a little weary, and so, I believe, was Gail. All that wind was really quite exhausting.



*In Scotland all the hills over 3000ft high are called 'Munros'. There are 282 of them.

Hipster envy...

Can you see anything wrong with how I look in this photo Gail took just over a week ago, when we went for a walk in the snow?

No me neither, but according to Gail, the fact that my beard was long enough to have icicles suspended from it was a Bad Thing.

Now if I had been allowed to accompany Gail on her business trip to London a few days ago, I could perhaps have taken the Tube to the hipster Mecca of Shoreditch while she was attending her boring meetings, and my luxuriant beard might have been given a special professional styling (e.g. look carefully at the beard pictured below...)

Shoreditch hipster 'animal beard'

But no, instead I have had to put up with Gail's amateur efforts with the pinking shears, leaving me almost bereft of my signature facial fuzz...

Glowing golden in the early morning sunlight

Please ignore the dripping beard.

Which I feel compelled too explain is water from a puddle and not slobber.

I am in NO WAY a slobbery dog.

PS I have now submitted my AmbassaDog application, well in time for the 6th April deadline. I am sure VisitScotland will sit up and take notice when they see all the glowing references provided by my lovely friends (again, thank you all SO MUCH).

We hate Donald Trump!

Serious matters today folks.

We went for a walk by the sea at Balmedie earlier today. (Oh don't fuss, yes OF COURSE I've recovered from last Sunday. I wasn't really that tired you know...)

There's a wonderful beach, HUGE sand dunes, interesting little creeks with unusual wildflowers. All unspoilt, peaceful, pristine.

Gail told me that I could go exploring anywhere. So it was a bit of shock when we came across this sign:

What on earth could be going on?

Well.

Apparently some horrid man called Donald Trump has bought the land and is going to build a golf couse, a HUGE high rise hotel and about a thousand houses. He says the area will be "improved".

But how can you improve on what is already perfect?

Well I bounced right past the sign and went exploring anyway. (Don't worry, my American friends, you're not allowed to shoot trespassers here).

I promised Gail I would try out my brand new teeth if we came across this Trump character.

So, truth to tell, I was just a wee bit disappointed that he was nowhere to be seen.

PS I hope you like my new sand-in-the-beard look? It means you get that extra tingling sensation when I kiss....