Sunday, December 27, 2015

Smurfs or Ancient Britons:Santa or Satan. Penultimate Post of 2015

Nearly New Year and new experiences are still coming thick and fast. I seem to meet new friends daily some two-legged, some four-legged. The staff take me walking most days though not as far as I’d like but I do meet interesting canines and sniff up some amazing new scents.
Independence Day comes to Studland
The beach is my undoubted favourite ‘cos we meet loads of new people there and I get to chase a myriad different species from birds to some weird alien species that seems to just lie there so they’re not much fun. The smells are amazing though and I'm sure there are foxes, badger and deer though, of course we rarely see them. 

I’ve met many other dogs most of them friendly and some a bit stand-offish but they’re largely tolerant of my poor social skills. Dogs are good fun and mostly play or just ignore me, bitches are not so tolerant and usually give me a right earful and sometimes even a token snap, aimed to miss obviously, I’m only little and young so allowances are made but I don’t quite know how long this will continue. No doubt it will be made crystal clear when the time comes.
Bit of a Mexican stand-off
Met some strange huge quadrupeds recently and, again, new niggles began itching at the back of my brain. Something tells me that however daunting they appear these monsters are easily intimidated by a superior intelligence - that would be me in case you’re wondering! Anyway we had a bit a stand off, an OK Corral scenario if you like, but they finally turned tail and rejoined their friends intimidated by the unstoppable force of my overweening if somewhat misplaced self-confidence. Once I’d got her on the move though my job was done and, discretion being the better part of valour, I returned triumphantly to the staff, honour duly satisfied.

If you share this I will find you and I will kill you
A couple of posts back I was bemoaning the fact that our humans love to dress us canines up in all sorts of ignominious get-ups and I was abjuring any kind soul to shoot me should anything so foul overtake me. Little did I know, gentle reader, what lay close around the corner. I can barely bring myself to post the photographic evidence and, in my defence, there was significant gustatory bribery involved but, as you can plainly see, I refused absolutely to go the whole nine yards - the hood was just a bridge too far! 
One day I'll look back at all this and laugh but it may be some time.

One canine, one molar - the last ones
My dentition seems to be causing some concern to the staff. My right upper canine steadfastly refused to make way for its younger sibling which was valiantly erupting underneath it. I and it got examined daily, sometimes several times, and there was much hushed discussion and talk of doom & gloom. I've even heard the V-E-T word mentioned. Quel horreur! Every time my teeth were motionless enough one or other of the domestics tried to grab the offending tooth to see if it was at all mobile - wobbly I think is the preferred term. This was a great game as it gave me an opportunity to try out the other new teeth on nice soft fingers and much hilarity ensued; at least I thought it was hilarious. Anyway, the butler was thumbing the offending canine one evening and, just as I was about to see how far into his digit I could sink it, there was a sharp crack and, low and behold, I  had a wobbly tooth. Great sighs of relief all round from the staff but me, I was not so keen. For a start there was a little blood which, on the whole I'm not averse to, unless it's mine which in this case it was. Secondly, I ended up with a kind of cross between and itch and a pain in my gum which I had to work on until it went away. 

Christmas Day started with a walk at Shell Bay beach which had practically disappeared because of the high tide. (There was a full moon that night, don’t ask me how I know, you wouldn’t like the answer and you probably wouldn’t sleep much during future full moons. 'Cue distant wolf howl.') Didn’t mean a thing to me,of course because I’ve never seen this beach before but the staff were gobsmacked. Met a 17 month old GSD called Floyd who was huge but good natured luckily and definitely up for a game. The rain was quite heavy by this time and Floyd’s games will just have to wait. I’m all for singing in the rain but the help seem to be made out of rice paper and were positively bursting to get back to the car. 

I’m rambling a bit now folks so I’ll sign off for now and let you get the life you so richly deserve.

PS - at the beach last week someone had buried a Smurf or a wode-infused ancient Briton face down. Now the question is what would Lassie do? Bite the bum or park the bike? Answers on a postcard please.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it....

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