Mass disobedience

I am wondering, what is your stance on obeying rules and regulations, even when they seem inappropriate, or perhaps superfluous?

Why bring this up just now, you ask.

Well, Gail took me down to the Aberdeen City beach yesterday. Although dogs are allowed to run free on most of the two mile long stretch of sand, there is a section in the centre, in front of the cafés and amusement arcades, where we are excluded, year round.

Rather to my irritation, Gail always makes me obey these signs.

However, I couldn't help but notice that, on this chilly grey November afternoon, all of the human visitors to the 'no dogs' bit of the beach were accompanied by their pups! 

And those pups were having a fine old time, and no-one seemed to object.

Look, why else would anyone visit a beach in the Northeast of Scotland at this time of year, if not to give Rover and Fido a chance for some bracing exercise? And for the humans, the nearer to the cafés the better!

What do my readers think?

A nearly perfect village and a sad farewell

Gail's friends Janet, Helen and Sue must have been so relieved I was able to accompany them all for last weekend's wee holiday in Northumberland.

I fear these nice ladies would have been barred from staying in the lovely little village of Warkworth, had I not been there.

How so?

OK, Gail thinks I've got hold of the wrong end of the stick, but to my mind the evidence all points to an unwritten rule that only dog owners are permitted to enter this particular village.

I mean, where else do you go to the pub for an evening meal and under every single table you see a contented dog, or perhaps two?

Was there a shop that did not have a water bowl outside the door?

And walking around the quaint streets, one had the distinct impression that any dog-free humans had been rounded up and taken to the nearest person pound.

But it was only when Gail visited the village church that I gained conclusive proof of my theory.

First, Gail took this photo, then she returned me to the car and entered the church alone to look round.

Inside the church, Gail was immediately accosted by a friendly lady vicar who'd seen me in the churchyard and said "oh but you can bring your dog in here too, we don't mind at all, everyone's got dogs in this village."

I rest my case.

I bet by now you are wondering why I have titled this blog post the 'nearly' perfect village.

Need I explain further?

And yes, the irony of an establishment that advertises itself as 'Bed and Brexit' offering 'en suite' bathrooms has not escaped this sharp wee WFT.

Finally today, we are mourning the loss of one of the brightest stars in the Blogville firmament, our beloved Diva Madi. Thank you so much dear Madi (and Mom) for all the fun you've given us over the years. What a life! Gail and I loved every single one of your blog posts and also appreciated all that you did to make our little corner of cyberspace into such a warm, friendly and supportive community.

We'll think of you every time we see a sun puddle, however small.

A convert?

It is an unfortunate but true fact (and in no way fake news) that some human beings are not 'dog people'.

This does not necessarily mean they are bad people.

Maybe they had bad experiences when young. Or perhaps in some, an innate fear of wolves is hard wired from pre-historic times.

Or could it simply be that they have not yet had the pleasure of spending time in the company of a certain Bouncing wire-haired fox terrier?

I only ask because a couple of days ago Gail received this very nice thank you card from one of our recent American visitors.

I hope you can read what it says inside.  I'll just show you the first - and obviously most important - bit.

 

Gail, where is my Gold Star and my lamb bone treat?

Better than a husband??

Bouncing Bertie Boffin here!

A couple of weeks ago I came across such an interesting article in the newspaper. Researchers in Sweden have found that owning a dog reduces the risk of death from heart disease. For single humans like Gail, it's a whopping effect. My presence in the house makes it at least a third less likely she will suffer a heart attack.

Oh yes and it turns out that of all the breed types, it is terriers, retrievers and scent hounds who have the most positive impact.

Now you might think that Gail would be pleased to read about this, wouldn't you? Perhaps a more empathetic owner might even believe their dog deserved a treat or two for conferring such spectacular health benefits.

But no.

Gail scanned the article with eyebrows raised and said she didn't think it applied to owners of wire-haired fox terriers. And then pointed out that I was directly responsible for her very nearly having a heart attack that time I jumped off the train at Newcastle Station... She also referenced (irrelevantly, I thought) the evening at puppy class when I tried to savage 'make friends with' Daisy the miniature dachshund and she came close to nervous collapse.

There's no pleasing some folk, is there...

Early morning walks on frosty mornings are particularly beneficial, I feel...

https://www.theguardian.com/science/2017/nov/17/owning-a-dog-cuts-risk-of-heart-attacks-and-other-fatal-diseases-study-shows

Can a dog issue a fatwa?

This all came about 'cos I overheard Gail say she was a wee bit embarrassed at having to give a presentation to some Iranian clients while her face was still all bruised and grazed from last Saturday's bicycle accident.

She mentioned she'd recently read an article in the paper about women being banned from cycling in Iran.

Gosh it seem to me these Mulllah types are onto something here.

Long time readers of this blog will be aware of all my trials and tribulations surrounding Gail's passion for two wheeled transport and exercise.

I had no idea that one could simply issue a decree stating that females are just not allowed to ride bikes. Problem solved!

Come to think of it, maybe we could extend the ban to human males too. Especially the sweaty mid-life crisis types that wear unwise lycra and often nearly run one over in the park of a morning.

Of course I would make allowances for those folks riding bicycles with baskets, trailers or other adaptations to enable transport of one's pet.



Oh, it seems that you only get to issue these decrees if you are some kind of a high heid yin of the Muslim faith.

So where do I sign up for Ayatollah School?

PS Gail apologises to her Muslim friends for any offence caused by Bertie's sketchy theological understanding...

St Petersburg - a city of opulence, splendour, and too few dogs?

Gosh I must say it is nice to have Gail home again after her slightly too exciting trip to St Petersburg.

I note that several of you want to know more about her visit and even asked if you can see some of photos! Well, I must remind you that this is supposed to be a dog blog and so I asked Gail if she had spotted any Borzois, Siberian Huskies or other Russian breeds. It seems not. She claims that the bit of fluff sticking out the front of this lady's coat is a miniature canine of some description, but frankly we'll have to take that one on trust won't we?

Gail did slightly better in the bookshop in the famous art nouveau Singer Building on Nevsky Prospekt, where she resisted the temptation to buy a Vladimir Putin mug and instead purchased me a nice calendar and a card, both pleasingly dog-relevant.

Oh and please, any Russian speakers out there, do tell us what it says on the card. Neither Gail nor I have quite mastered using Google Translate with Cyrillic script.

It seems one might become overwhelmed by the opulent splendour of the many palaces, museums, churches and other grand buildings in St Petersburg. But I have a question for you (there might even be a prize). Can you tell which is the odd one out of the eight photos below?

Finally, I confess I had been a bit worried that Gail would come home hungry, as she does not like  cabbage, caviar or vodka. But she assures me this is an out-dated stereotype of Russian cuisine, and she and Yvonne somehow managed to force the food down...

PS I promise you normal service will return on this blog next week, when I hope to be able to post new photos of ME enjoying a nice Spring walk in the Scottish countryside!

Lederhosen? NO!!!!!!!!

Gail has noted that we shall be travelling through Germany around the time of Oktoberfest.

She is a little apprehensive about taking me on the train in Germany anyway (according to the Deutsche Bahn website, I am supposed to wear a muzzle*) and she has suggested that perhaps I should put on an outfit to better blend in.

Meanwhile, I am wondering if Gail should be wearing a Dirndl?

She says not, but that a large beer might yet be necessary... 

 *Gail says - I am told that it is unlikely in practice that Bertie will be required to be muzzled, but I should carry one just in case. So I am trying to get Bertie get comfortable with the concept of 'ein Maulkorb' by having him wear one at home for short stints, accompanied by plentiful treats. If any readers have experience of taking dogs on trains in Germany, I'd love to hear about it. 

Dog lover and Olympic champion: Laura Trott

So with my human spending her evenings in front of the telly, transfixed by the exploits of the British Olympic track cycling team, I decided to do some background research on my rivals for Gail's attention, multiple gold medallists, Laura Trott and her fiancé Jason Kenney. 

And you know what? I am beginning to think maybe cyclists are not so bad after all.

Look, here are Laura and Jason earlier this year,  taking time out of their strenuous training schedule to visit the Dogs Trust Manchester, a charity caring for homeless pups. 

Awww. You can see Laura's a genuine dog lover. Clutching this adorable fellow, she looks as happy as if she's just won yet another gold medal.

Here's Laura back home with one of her own two Sproodles.

You can feel the love can't you? (I hope Jason's not jealous).

 This is what our world-beating cyclist said to a reporter before she left for Rio. 

I wonder if she's heard about the Pawlympics?

Election special! Gromit or a husky?

It may have escaped the notice of some of my more far flung readers that here in the UK we are in the middle of a general election campaign.

Now I do recognise that the United Kingdom is no longer the power it once was when a large part of the globe was coloured in British Empire pink, but still, I feel our election is worthy of attention. And, of course, I am interested in which political party us pups should be encouraging our humans to support.

I have conducted extensive background research, using the following search terms on Google:

"David Cameron (Conservative) + dog"
"Ed Miliband (Labour) + dog"
"Nick Clegg (Liberal Democrat) + dog"
"Nigel Farage (UKIP) + dog"
"Nicola Sturgeon (SNP) + dog"

Sadly, I have to report that none of our main party leaders appears to own, or indeed to be particularly fond of, the canine species.

All, however, is not lost.

Our current Prime Minister, Mr Cameron, was famed early on in his leadership for certain 'hug a husky' photos purportedly indicating his concerns about global warning. The photos are still circulating on the internet ...

… and it will only be trivial minds (such as Gail's) which look at this image and think gosh, was Dave's hair really that brown just a few short years ago?

Huskies have, however, been absent from this year's Conservative election publicity, and I am struggling to find alternative reasons for telling Gail to put her X by the box of the Tory candidate in Aberdeen South.

The rather startling image below is the result of the Miliband/dog search.

To any mystified readers, may I respectfully suggest you head straight to YouTube and acquaint yourself with those wonderful British cartoon creations, Wallace and Gromit. And decide for yourself if the less intelligent of the man/dog comic partnership in any way resembles the UK's current Leader of the Opposition.

Here in Scotland, we are of course most interested in the position of SNP leader/First Minister Ms Sturgeon. Disappointing, then, to learn that she recently confessed to being a wee bit frightened of dogs. A surprising admission indeed, in a pro-Independence politician, so feisty and apparently well able to take care of herself, as these are traits which surely suggest an affinity with the native terrier population?

Followers of British politics are well accustomed to hearing Nick Clegg, Deputy Prime Minister and Liberal Democrat leader, being described as Cameron's "poodle" in a way that is, frankly, insulting to poodles, and I feel that to illustrate this point with an image would be dragging down standards on this blog to an unacceptable low.

Oh, Gail says it will be OK. All right then:

So dear readers in the UK, I do hope this mini-review has helped you make up your mind about who to vote for come 7th May.

And to those who would complain that I have unfairly ignored the UK Independence Party and its leader Mr Nigel Farage, let me assure you this was entirely intentional, and we here in this household wish the rest of the world would do the same...


PS: On the radio yesterday morning, I kept hearing that everyone in England is worried about "the SNP tail wagging the Labour dog". WHAT IS THAT ALL ABOUT?

Friday morning encounters in the Park

So first we had a cheery wave and a "hello Gail and Bertie" as Simon, one of Gail's former colleagues, zoomed past at the helm of a tandem.

Simon now works at Shell, whose offices are a couple of miles up the hill on the other side of the river, and he rides to work with a blind fellow employee on the back of the tandem, and has been doing this for many years. I guess even I, Bertie, would have to approve of this use of a bicycle.

Of course Gail was too slow with the camera to get a picture before they had shot off beyond the park gates.

Next we ran into a couple of community support wardens.

I want to report that I stopped them in their tracks, so struck were they by my extreme handsomeness. I do not agree with Gail's theory that they paused to chat because they were bored and in need of diversion.

The conversation went thus:

Female warden: "Och he's affa bonnie."
Male warden: "Fit's his breed? It's a schnauzer, no?"
Female warden: "He's nae a schauzer, he's an Airedale, ken?"
Male warden: "Och, I hivnae a clue. But I love coming tae the park and seeing a' the different kinds o' dogs."
Gail : "Well in fact this one's a wire-haired fox terrier. Sort of similar in shape to a schnauzer or an Airedale, but different colours". Then, changing the subject, "Is this a routine patrol or has there been a problem?"
Male warden: "We're just here deein' a wa'kaboot, tae mak sure a' the responsible dog owners are being responsible, ken?"
Gail: "Most of the folk who walk their dogs in this park seem OK I think."
Female warden: "Aye, there's nae many pit bulls in these pairts."
Gail: "No indeed. Oh well, best be on our way. Bertie, that's enough ear rubs for now. Have a good day."

Can one ever have enough ear rubs?

Not so surprising after all?

Remember my wee adventure in the 'East Neuk' last month?

At the end of the two day coastal walk, Gail's friend Alison said something which got me thinking.

"You know, this trip has been quite an eye-opener. I had no idea just how many people stop and talk to you when you're accompanied by a dog".

Gail replied along the lines of she supposed she'd just got used to it over the years.

Alison (who is ever so nice) seemed to think it sad and a sign that many folk care more for dogs than their own species.

But Gail, who always likes to think the best of everybody, said as she see it humans - especially the reserved British* variety - need a little encouragement to help them communicate, and pups like me act as a conduit through which warmth, humour and compassion can flow more easily.

Strangely, neither Gail nor Alison seemed to consider the (to me) obvious point that if you are an exceptionally handsome/cute/appealing/adorable specimen then of course people will stop and talk!

What Gail didn't let on to Alison was that even more people stop to chat when she is out on her own with me. 

*And what will being 'British' mean, in two weeks time? 

What's wrong with my bark? PLUS BONUS VIDEO!

At agility training, the humans will always chat amongst themselves between turns, but I've noticed they are much less keen on us pups doing the same.

Most of the club members have owned more dogs than there are dalmatians in that famous film, so Gail, who has only ever lived with Hamish and me, often tries to tap into their experience.

On Tuesday night, while I was conversing with Willow Border Collie, I overheard Gail asking this:

"Do you think dogs' barks get deeper with age, like human voices? I certainly hope so."

I don't think I am being oversensitive in detecting a note of criticism here.

Phrases like "ear-splitting", "unbelievably piercing", "shrill and grating" and "setting one's teeth on edge" have, within range of my flappy little ears, been used before by Gail to describe my dulcet tones.

You know what? In my not so humble opinion, it takes one to know one.

And anyone who heard Gail sing along with 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot' while the rugby was on TV yesterday (actually, a flat croak would be a more accurate description) will call to mind that proverb about glass houses and stones…

My rendition of 'Flower of Scotland' was of course pitch perfect, although Gail exaggerated when when she said it was probably audible at Murrayfield.

**************************

Later:

OK, so you can now judge for yourself who has the worse voice….

Is this a good thing?

Really, I am in two minds about these photos from Gail's workplace.

Should I be pleased that employees are reminded of their bouncing pups when taking a 'comfort break'?

Or insulted at the use to which I fear such a fine product is put? 

After all, I do not wipe my bottom on images of humans….

PS Gail and I are going down to Nottingham for a few days 'cos on Monday it's HGD's 92nd birthday. Oh I am so looking forward to the train ride! And of course to seeing HGD.