Like Upstairs Downstairs Only Backwards

Hi Folks, another brief chapter in this hiccuping diatribe that is my blog/diary. The butler says that when he was little, kindly relations would provide him with diaries for Christmas so he could be the next Samuel Pepys and he'd march off with them and a big bag full of good intentions. The diaries usually had entries for 1 January, 2 January and, if it was really wet outside, perhaps 3 January then... nothing. Not one single entry after that. I'm afraid this record of my existence is shaping up the same way and you'll have to forgive me for that. I'll try harder.

 Hey, I’ve made a discovery. There's a set of wooden platforms going upwards from the hall and recently, while the guv'nor wasn't paying attention, I snuck up there and, lo and behold there's a whole new world up there! I had a blast and, while I've got a nice new and pretty swish bed in the kitchen area, the staff have an enormous sleeping platform up there that dwarfs mine. There's something cockeyed somewhere or my name's not Sid which it is. Surely the staff are supposed to live in the cellar whilst those more privileged take to the high bastions of the building. I'll have to see if there's some rule somewhere that can be invoked to rectify this appalling injustice. The maid was not best pleased by my adventures aloft and chased me back down. Probably embarrassed by the state of things under their bed. Someone either coming or going under there obviously. Now my appetite has been whetted, I'm itching for another opportunity to explore. Actually I'm just itching generally but I guess that's just the sand and salt from the beach...or maybe something else? 

What? Oh yeah I'm aware that I've been a bit tardy with the entries lately but, you know, life is just so full of, well, stuff and there's not much time to faff around with diaries and such. I'd much rather be chasing foxes, badgers cats and spiders in the garden when I'm not roaming across the country park where there are amazing scent vistas that defy description. 

More anon.

PS - the staff deserted me for ages recently and left me with complete strangers who were actually rather nicer than the humans I'm used to. They had several dogs who sort of tolerated me...just but one in particular a pretty young blonde who they called Amber. She and I hit it off big time and midway through my stay she began to smell amaaaaazing! At that point I was hurridley ushered out of company much to my disappointment and was barely allowed to see her which was a shame. I'm sure we could have thought of something to do. Anyway, when the staff did deign to return, smelling vaguely of olives and goats I hear talk of me being 'done' whatever that entails. Time will no doubt tell.

In Which Our Hero Keeps On Keeping On

Sorry folks but this is the first proper post of 2016 doing this blog is something low on my list of priorities at the moment because the learning curve is steep and slippery and my resolve is weak since I find typing somewhat trying what with the lack of decent digits and all. I’ll try to be more regular but I’m not promising anything.

Because inland is more or less a sea of mud( sounds a bit contradictory I know), most of our walks have been on the beach. On the whole I love it though it can be a bit boring and flat. The light, on the other hand (see below), is amazing and there have been some beautiful mornings that are memorable for all the right reasons.

This is the kind of thing I'm talking about

Moving on, I’ve got an amazing new game. This involves luring the help into a sense of false security then, when they least expect it and I'm off the leash, disappearing into the distance to talk to all the people and dogs on the beach. This huge fun! Firstly, because I’m low to the ground I’m really difficult to spot and I get almost as much free time to myself as I like, second because it really annoys the staff and thirdly I get to chat to loads and loads of dogs and people most of whom are very receptive. There is the odd snotty look mostly from the DTWs or ‘down-for-the weekenders’ who are probably the most anti-social bunch on the planet. I guess it’s because making eye contact where they come from is likely to get you mugged or worse. Of course they were in the majority over the Christmas and New Year period but luckily they have jobs to return to and the beach gets less crowded and much friendlier when they’ve headed back from whence they came in their sparkling 4x4s and Audis. It must be really muddy in London to need all that traction but I digress. From now until Easter, I’m told, life will be a lot more pally. Good job too, the sight of parents snatching up their precious toddlers as I barrel towards them is quite disturbing and the help gets quite a few dirty looks which doesn’t put them in the best of tempers either. Don't know what all the fuss is about us canines are only allowed on the beach between November and May so I guess if people don't like dogs they could always avoid the place. They'll have it all to themselves on 1 May nudists and all.

Dog? Doesn't look anything like a dog.

Anyhoo, be that as it may January & February was, on the whole one long beano. The three-legged thing is really beginning to take hold and I'm anointing more and more stuff with my pheromones by the day. The beach, whilst not exactly ever deserted, has enough walkers and their attendant canines to make it all very eventful and I've been bowled over a few times which is a bit ignominious. Attracted the attention of a couple of long dogs who must've thought I was some kind of beach rabbit with a tail and coursed me down the beach. Bit of a nasty moment until I showed them my canines and they twigged that I wasn't any kind of rodent. SLowed them down just enough for me to re-join the staff. Not much sympathy from that quarter though, the butler just says if I can't take a joke I shouldn't have joined so I just had to shake myself off and get on with it. All part of life's rich tapestry whatever that means.

Been making my self useful as you can see. Alternative caption reads 'Let me in, I need to go out again'. 

Just checking the window cleaner's doing his job correctly

So it’s onwards & upwards. Catch y’all later. Toodle pip.

The Last/First Post - 2015/16

First post of 2016 people and just time to wish all of you a ripping New Year. I know I’ll have one:)

A couple of pix from the last couple of days shot from the help’s phone. One of holly flowering at Studland beach (we’ll probably be having a barbecued Christmas dinner next year at this rate).

Holly in bloom - in December?

And finally a view up the Jurassic Coast towards Portland from Hound’s Tout which, when we weren’t being blown over, was quite spectacular. Before you ask I have no idea what the name means perhaps it's French.

View towards Portland from Hound's Tout 

That’s all folks. Catch up soon. See y'all

PS - Storm Frank is currently scouring the coastline and sounding for all the world like it's about to blow the house down. I might be learning to swim sooner than I expected. See you in the near future if we've not been gathered. Ta ta, again.

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....

Behold The Chimera

Just a short unexpected bulletin today. I just had to let you into the horror that just occurred. I seem to be growing tusks and turning into some kind of warthog. I was blithely checking myself out in the mirror of the double glazing to ascertain my most photogenic angle, and this is what I saw...

...imagine my horror. Oh.My.Days! I just thought I'd got a bit of twig caught in between my canines but no, they seem to have developed minds of their own and now seem to be pointing in the same direction as my ears and now 90 degrees in the opposite direction like some demented weather vane. The butler is very comforting and tries to persuade me that it's just me shedding my 'baby teeth'. What? Baby teeth, there's nothing juvenile about these gnashers they've made some significant holes in the staff and anything else I chew to while away the long hours of darkness. Anyway, just thought I'd keep you all up to speed not doubt time will tell if I'm to be canine, porcine or some peculiar new species of pig-dog. Que sera, sera and all that.

In With A Bang, Out Like Lion

Well November draws to a close with wind, rain and hail. Storms are battering the coast all over the UK. The staff think that this is really October weather but since I’ve been here less than a year it’s all I know so I’m assuming this is normal whatever normal is. The staff seem to be acquiring a lot of new wet weather gear using me as an excuse ‘cos they ‘need to be weatherproof’ when taking me for my daily exercise don’t they? No mention of getting me any wet weather togs I note. I just have to use my double layer of coat and lump it. Luckily I’m young, vibrant and life is so interesting I don’t notice any change in the external conditions. I’m just glad to be immersed in the new and exciting smells that I come across every time I’m abroad either on the heath or the beach.

Yours truly, channeling Narcissus at Little Sea, Studland

A recent trip over the heathland at Hartland Moor gave me the opportunity to meet some new animals that I hadn’t come across though I’ve attempted to sample their pooh up at Durleston a time or two much to the staff’s disgust. These dudes were big and white with black noses and were damned inquisitive, a bit intimidating if I’m brutally honest. They made a bee line for us from across the field even though we weren’t any kind of threat they headed for us en masse lickety split. Luckily the butler had been scared witless by similar intimidation as a pup and was more than able for them, keeping them at bay while the maid and I crossed a convenient gate and I could swear at them from a distance and with a gate between us so that was cool (more of gates later). Have to say there was something niggling at the back of my brain all the while a bit like the upright posts and trees thing. A strange impulse to get in among them and nip a few heels. I resisted of course and the niggle subsided but I have a feeling that these atavistic urges will surface again and probably get me into all sorts of bother. The urge to be close enough to legs and feet to administer some dental encouragement is strong and is already drawing some fairly choice language from the staff as they trip over me with monotonous regularity. The butler, in particular, has a pretty comprehensive lexicon of choice phrases that I’m sure would not go down well in mixed company. Luckily my language skills are pretty poor but the tone is sufficiently dire for me to give him as wide a berth as I can. My resolve to stay away from his feet lasts about 5 minutes max then the old atavistic urges kick in (an appropriate phrase that) and I’m threading my way between his feet again. It makes a dull walk quite entertaining. Strange, when I’m on the lead I pull like a sled dog but off the lead, have this irresistible magnetic attraction to feet that gets me into trouble every time. It’s been remarked more than once by the staff that I’m a contrary little mutt.

This morning we headed to Studland Bay for a brisk, and I mean brisk, trip along the sand. It was blowing about Force 6 offshore so the water was invitingly flat but I’ve caught that way before so gave it a wide berth. Thought I was home and hosed until I jumped on what I thought was a nice dry bed of seaweed only to find it was floating on about 6 inches of water. That was a surprise and I’ll have to be more careful in future but still, nobody died.

Met some nice dogs out for their morning constitutionals, a poodle an Australian cattle dog who seemed to have left his tail at home which I thought was pretty cool really given the weather, tails are a bloody menace when they get saturated, upset your balance not end. Got a weird feeling he was a bit of a kindred spirit more of an intuitive feeling really, non-verbal and he was very chilled even with me bouncing off him like some demented squash ball. Hope I meet him again. The poodle was a brick too and more than up for a chase across the sand. The third member of this troupe was an elderly black and white collie who walked funny with her head cocked on one side and gave me a right earful when I approached. Gave her plenty of room I can tell you these ears are just too vulnerable to take a chance. Her staff told mine that she was fifteen and had had a stroke which I would have thought was a good thing really, I quite like a stroke whenever I can get one but it obviously doesn’t agree with her. Still each to his or her own. the meet was all too brief and on we went into the teeth of the wind. As I was looking over my shoulder to make sure the staff were keeping up, I literally tripped over this…

…smelled a bit rum so I thought I’d sample it and see what it tasted like. In the event, not much is the answer, sort of salty, slightly chewy but not in a good way and with a slightly fishy aftertaste. Not very appealing and not a patch on cow pats which, in addition to having rich earthy texture, taste divine and are packed full of Vitamin D so a win all round. The floppy frisbee, on the other hand, was not that appetising but they do seem to be plentiful and I had to watch carefully where I was putting my feet I can tell you. If only a way could be found to flavour them with bovine crap the food shortage dilemma might be solved.

That’s all for November, roll on the end of the year.

Toodle pip.

November Gales & Problems Of Windage

You can see my problem...

It’s been very windy and I’m think of getting these ears cropped in case I’m whisked off to join the migrating flocks heading south from the cliffs beside Durlston Castle. That’d give the twitchers a start and something to write about in their little notebooks. The staff take me on what they call ‘walks’ (they even spell it sometimes - sad gits). I’d rather refer to them a scent trails because, although the view doesn’t change much the smells are magic and change daily. You never know what your nose is going to describe and everything from foxes, cats, badgers, deer, mice and a unique log aggressive scent I can’t quite place but which haunts the dry stone walling above the light house. This last I instinctively know to avoid but I don’t know why. no doubt all will be revealed in due course when I finally set eyes on the scent’s owner. Hope I’m not alone because it doesn’t smell good. Other than that I get to meet the loveliest canines and their respective staff. There’s one black & white pointer who good fun and very polite. It’s probably the English in him. His staff member is always in a hurry so its just a brisk handshake and he’s off. I try and keep up but his legs are four times as long as mine so there’s not much point in chasing but I try anyway. 

Even in the wet I'm made sit!
So unfair

It’s interesting to meet new guys and gals each with their own particular character. I wonder sometimes what they think of me. I think these southerners think I’m a bit too familiar really. It’s probably the mix of Welsh and Mancunian that instils few social graces in my nature, that and my extreme youth. Everything is a game I think. Why be serious when you can bounce off folks. Not everyone appreciates my joie de vivre but do I care? No way Jose, life is too short and so am I.

Other than the cliff walks, the irritating of the grouchy pooches, the dead-heading the hydrangeas and the general mayhem and destruction life is pretty dull. There’s a trip in the tin box with the wheels which seems to go on forever and would be pretty much unbearable if it wasn’t for the whole new scent panorama at the end of it. Lovely herbivore pooh to inhale like there’s no tomorrow, quite tasty too some of it much to the staff’s disgust. Wide open downs to race across, mould smelling fungi which seem to spring out of the ground like jacks in the box and catch my eye easily cos they’re at my level. Unfortunately they don’t taste as good as they look but you can’t have everything. The lovely smelling pooh is laid by some enormous herbivores that seem to carry their staff on their backs and sweat a lot after their daily walks. Not sure what that’s all about but the salty sweat make them smell very tasty. Might have to drag one down and sample it one of these days. Might have to get a team together though, not sure I’m up to it alone. Funny, I have no idea where these grandiose plans come from but they seem to begin as a nagging ache at the back of my head. It’s bit like the leg cocking thing which is becoming more insistent. My current bladder emptying routine seems pretty efficient all in all but this subliminal urge to try it three legs is getting almost irresistible and I have no idea why. No doubt all will be revealed in due course.

I guess that’s enough of my blether for now and if anybody’s still reading my thoughts after eleven post you really need to get a life:) Talk to me I’ve lots to spare though how long that’ll last is moot. Every day one of the staff threatens to kill me for some perceived transgression. Me, I’m blissfully ignorant of all chastisement and I’m just enjoying life to the full. So folks be well, be happy and don’t let the turkeys get you down. Au revoir people. Laters…