Water Water Everywhere and Lots to Splash Around In and Beware Sticks

WATER WATER EVERYWHERE AND LOTS TO SPLASH AROUND IN


One of Molly's favourite things is to see in the distance a splosh of water.

It can be the sea, a river, a stream, a puddle, or flood water,or even I would suggest a jacuzzi although no-one I know has one.

This is a picture of her standing with a stick in flood water.

When any flash of distant water glimmers in her eye she off at the rate of knots.

This is the ONLY time I throw sticks for her.

We live near a river and the only time I let her gallop off into the distance is when we take a particular footpath.   The river is at least a very big field away and I can't see her when she reaches the end by the water.   But she knows it is there.   And boy does she know.

She is through the kissing gate and she is off.   Molly is ten now and she still moves like a five year old.

Moll patiently waits in the long grass right by the side of the river.    She is waiting for me to throw her a stick or two or three.

I can't see her at all until I get quite close.      And I have to catch her up looking for suitable sticks on the ground all the time.

Its a popular footpath and often she rushes passed unsuspecting walkers.    If they are dog people they turn around to see if there is a "person" with her.   If they are not they don't seem to turn a hair.   Mostly, though people do look back and I wave in acknowledgement that the black bullet that whizzed passed them is in fact "my dog".

I get to the river and she is quivering with excitement.    The first stick is ready to go.

Moll launches herself off the bank and into the water.    She is so brave with and in water.   But no so brave with other things.     She hates gun shots.    When she hears shooting she halts, tail between her legs, and will refuse to go on.   She has often turned tail and run for home.  That's another story.

We have to have at least three sticks.   And she loves it.   Swimming is her favourite thing to do.

Even when the river is in full flood she goes in.    Then I do have to choose where to throw the stick because she has to be able to go with the flow and yet have somewhere to climb out that is not too steep.

When the river is rushing along and I see her confidently swimming away I am reminded that dogs are BRILLIANT SWIMMERS and powerful ones too.    Much better than we humans are.

It reminds me that we should never try to rescue dogs if they fall into a river.   Dogs will come out and we won't.

I say that but if I had a little dog, or a dog caught up with a collar on a branch, and stuck in mid stream and are drowning just because they are caught, and can't move.    My resolve would crack.    I would go in.

But if the dog is just swimming and being swept down by the current DON'T stand and call the dog.    You should run along the bank following the current and call your dog so he can swim not AGAINST the current but by using the current to swim towards you who hopefully can run and get downstream where the dog will find it easier to reach.

When I was a small child my father had a loyal and faithful Springer Spaniel who was a bit loopy but loveable.   Billy Boy loved my father and went with him everywhere he could.      We had a boat mooring on the local Estuary and a beach hut on the beach.     My father and some mates went off sailing one fine day.    Someone threw a stone and it was a stupid thing to do.     The dog went off (he loved water too) after the splash of the stone and swam out towards the buoy mooring.    The buoy obviously smelt of my father and Bill grabbed the buoy rope with his teeth and wouldn't let go.

For the first ten minutes we children found it really a giggle.    Stupid dog.  But after a lot of calling he still wouldn't come back.    It was a fast tide and it was obvious after thirty minutes or so the dog was tiring and yet he still wouldn't let go of that buoy.

My poor mother.    She had to launch a small rowing boat rescue leaving we five children on the beach.    She rowed out on her own and grabbed the dog by his collar and tried really hard to get him to let go of the buoy and to get him into the rowing boat.    All on her own.    She simply couldn't do it.

Back she came.     Then another ten or so minutes passed whilst she found a willing passerby to row her out.   This time she took a large piece of cooked chicken with her.

By this time the poor dog exhausted but he still wouldn't let go.

My mother had to prise his jaws off the buoy - then thrust the chicken into his mouth - and then whilst he grabbed hold of the food rather than the buoy man-handle the wet dog into the boat.

She was furious.    No one admitted to throwing that stone.    And no one ever again threw a stone into the sea when there was a dog on the beach.

Moll loves the sea too.     I still have that beach hut.     And she loves it there as much as Billy Boy.

DOG SHIT

We live in an AONB (area of outstanding natural beauty) and great chunks of the land has been bought up over the years by The National Trust who have opened a "shoppee" and a "caffee" along one of the most popular walks by our local river.   See a picture above of Molly in the river and one of her favourite things to do - retrieving sticks thrown into the river.

Countless visitors and locals walk the area as there are lots of paths that criss-cross this pretty countryside and oh joyee end up or can end up with either lunch at this "caffee" or a coffee.    This makes it very popular with dog walkers.    Very popular. 

This means a lot of dog shit.

Now we all know that dog shit can blind small children and cause stomach upsets.     If digested.   The worst bit is when small children stand in dog mess (because to them it looks like mud) and it gets on their shoes.    

Now the worst thing about standing in dog shit and getting it on your shoes is that it stinks.    Absolutely stinks.   This is not pleasant but if you walk along a river you can dunk those boots and shoes into the water and wash it off.    Or discreetly head for the nearest bit of clumpy grass.

But can anyone tell me why countless dog walkers (definately in my area and from what I hear throughout the country) bag up their dog's mess, oh so very neatly in a plastic bag, the best ones are in little bags, and the baddies are those that put a smallish mess into a large supermarket, plastic, carrier bag, and then they.........

STILL IN A PLASTIC BAG.   CHUCK IT IN THE HEDGE.     OR TO THE SIDE OF THE PATH.   OR INTO THE BRANCHES OF SOME UNSUSPECTING POOR TREE.

OR AS WE GET INTO THE TRUNK OF A WILLOW TREE ALONG THE BANK OF OUR RIVER.

What morons do that?    Why would you do that?

If you bag it you have to carry it and put it in a proper dog bin wherever it may be and however long it takes.     If you are not prepared to carry it then either kick it to one side - off the path - with a stick into the undergrowth.

Why put it in a plastic bag?    Dog shit left in a plastic bag in the sun will heat up.   The bacteria will multiply and breed very fast therefore likely to cause more disease when the bag eventuality splits open.    Plastic does not disintergrate easily.    So your carelessly chucked bag of dog shit will stay attached to tree branches, hedgerows, and fences, wherever it lands for months and months.    All those PCB's in plastic mixed with rotting dog shit is an appalling thought.

If its shoved into the undergrowth small children are unlikely to walk in it.     What happens is one of two things.   This does depend on what you feed your dog.   If its tasty then it will get eaten by either foxes, badges or any hungry creature so that's that.    Or if it gets left it will rot down in a week into the ground and it will fertilise the earth and do some good.

I really don't understand why someone would walk in an AONB and pollute it with plastic bags full of dog shit.    Or any other kind of rubbish if it comes to that.   BUT my main gripe is the dog walkers.   And you never see anyone do it.    It seems to me people bag it up and wait until the most secluded part of the walk......i.e. where no one else can see them.    And then they take aim and throw.

PLEASE DON'T.

Stick it or kick it into the undergrowth.

That's what should be a new advertising slogan The National Trusts marketing manager should promote.

Stick it or Kick it.

GUMTREE IS NOT THE PLACE TO SELL A DOG CALLED KAI OR ANY DOG

This is my lovely dog Molly.     She is faithful and loyal as are most dogs.    So.....

Who amongst us is cruel enough to buy a dog from Gumtree?     Who amongst us is stupid enough to even look?

Well some woman from Aberdeen did.    And as the dog "just wasn't the same one photographed in the advertisement" she left the dog tied up outside Ayr Railway Station.    She did it because her daughter had to catch the last train home.    Let's just cut to the chase.   She abandoned this dog to its fate.   She didn't even have the decency to phone an animal welfare agency.   I am sure she thinks she's done nothing wrong.

Oh pleeeease!

Three people should be prosecuted by the SPCA and banned from keeping dogs for life.    We should all know that abandoning an animal is a criminal offence under the laws of this country.

This woman should be prosecuted.    The man who sold this poor unfortunate (but now fortunate) dog, called Kai to this woman, should also be prosecuted.     And the man who sold this dog originally on Gumtree, yet again, in 2013, to presumably the man who sold it to this woman who abandoned it.

This dog was also in great pain.

It seems to me that the SPCA hasn't got the guts to go for the jugular.     It seems to me pretty simple.  And it wouldn't take an investigative journalist to trace these three people.    And I think the SPCA already has according to The Daily Record who has been covering this story but have decided not to prosecute.   Why not?   Can anyone tell me?

The woman concerned a Ms. Fin Rayner, 39 (and at 39 you would think she'd be a bit more responsible) abandoned the dog which she left tied to a railing at the station, and oh, compassion she left it with all his "toys and things".    What kind of person does this?    The dog was tied up there for a very long time before someone noticed it had been abandoned.   Who notices these things?   Eventually someone does but think of the cruelty.

Would Ms. Rayner have tied up her daughter (the one with the train to catch) up to the rails whilst she perhaps went shopping?   Its a short step.

The man who dropped the dog off and drove off before dear Ms. Rayner could stop him "failed to return her calls".     Ms. Raynor has his phone number.    What is easier than tracing that?

The second man who originally advertised in Gumtree, in 2013, and it was his name and address, on Kai's micro-chip who willingly admitted he sold Kai on the website in 2013, but surpise surprise can't remember the name of the man who bought him.

All three of these people should be prosecuted without delay.

This lovely dog was also in pain because ihis eyelashes were growing into his eyes.   Everytime he blinked - which all creatures have to do - he was in pain.   To its credit the SPCA is looking after Kai and they have already operated on his eyes so he is now in discomfort after the operation but in no more pain.

The Daily Record to its credit has got a petition up (just google it) for a public vote on whether or not its right to sell a dog, or any animal for that matter, on Gumtree.     Please sign it and add your voice.    I have just sign it myself.

Whilst you are at it you could phone up the SPCA and ask them to prosecute as a public duty.

I have.

My Charlie Dog Protest

I don't know why I am calling this post "My Charlie Dog Protest" but as this is a dog blog and most of us are still reeling from the shock of the atrocities in Paris and it was carried out by fanatical ignorant believers of radical Islam as opposed to being Catholic, Protestant, Hindu, Buddist, Methodist, Janne or Jew or one of the other world religions I thought I'd share my experience(s) of Muslim dog lovers in Europe.

It does depend on where you live.

The above photograph was taken a few weeks ago in Turkey itself mainly Muslim in faith although a secular state.    There are now lots of dog lovers in Turkey including the woman above walking her two dogs in the street.   If you visited Turkey twenty years ago as I did dogs were treated appallingly and cruelty was rife.  It has taken time but the Turkish people are getting there and getting it - with dogs.

This post is NOT going to be about the horrible things that can happen to dogs in other Muslim faith countries (and certain other countries - er - South America, parts of African, in Asian, in China where they are bred to eat but that's for another time).   But according to a lot of people who interpret the Koran dogs are unclean.   They are no more unclean than humans.

But when the world was existing in the middle ages and in medieval times dogs could easily pass on rabies and disease (all these things were very visible and around a lot) and therefore it was a good public health initiative not to encourage contact so for most religions the idea that dogs, who lived alongside man for thousands of years, were unclean.    Its a good idea too to perhaps tell your little children that, to protect them, just in case they get too close and then they get bitten particularly in countries were there is little health care and you can die from a dog bite.

My own dog Muslim experiences are from the younger European generation whereas, let's say, their parents are from the older generation.    This could apply to lots of friends throughout Europe but its easier to tell one story.  

I know people in Copenhagen who are a young married couple in their thirties and they have two lovely dogs.    They are originally from Jordan.    And their parents still live in Jordan.   So when the parents come to stay which both sets do twice a year but, phew, only for two weeks each, the dogs go to a Dog Nursery cum luxury Spa.    

(A lot of their friends from other Middle Eastern countries in Denmark also do the same thing with their own loved dogs and its become a bit of a conspiracy amongst them all.)

Their house takes a whole weekend to clean to ensure there are no dog hairs around.  The dogs are already at their doggy hotel.    For two weeks before any visit the dogs are no longer allowed upstairs (the dogs usually sleep on their beds).   All the doggy stuff is shoved up into the attic.   The last day the windows are opened through the house for at least 24 hours.    The neighbours are sworn to secrecy.

The parents come and go.    They are none the wiser.  The dogs come home.  But this couple will always have dogs.   They love them and have seen what wonderful and devoted companions they are, they are Muslim, they are modern Europeans, and when they eventually have children they will probably have to come clean to their parents when their own children start to talk!   Children can't keep secrets.

The point of this story is that we in Western demoracies have always had dogs in our homes and most of us have treated them well, and we love them, but in a lot of other countries they haven't.     The internet and televison have played a huge part because of imported series which does show dogs as being part of families and these are seen worldwide.   I think Disney Studioes takes a lot of the credit too.  

It takes time to realise what wonderful creatures and companions dogs are and it takes time for one generation to supplant the next in both ideas and ideology.    It will all come.

Je suis aussi Charlie.

Christmas Stupidity Shared by Downton Abbey Dogs

Well we've been up to The Highlands and luckily back before the really awful weather kicked in.   But this is a bit of snow and Molly in the garden and its a Christmasey scene.

There is now no excuse for having Christmas decs up collecting dust.    They should by now all be down.   Perhaps at a stretch this weekend is downing time if you are working hard and have had no time to get the job done beforehand.

How many people did the idiot dog thing of wrapping up presents to go under or on the tree AT DOG REACHING HEIGHT containing edible stuff?     A couple of newspapers ran a couple of stories about cute pooches who had destroyed their owners Christmas tree/presents/room simply because they'd left presents of tins of biscuits, sweets, and chocolate, under their tree at dog height?   And left their dogs at home alone.  Serve these idiot people right.

Dogs have the most brilliant noses and can sniff out anything foodie miles away so the temptation of being left in charge of a house with a Christmas tree full of tempting treats, is simply unresistable to ANY DOG.

Come on you guys realise that your dog has been programmed for thousands of years to both get along with we humans and to realise that to dogs we humans mean food and shelter!   Dogs don't realise that those lovely smellie wrapped presents under the tree aren't for them - as far as they are concerned it is for them.  Its been programmed into their genes to eat when there is food wherever it is.   And they then tuck in?  Why not?  And then are bewildered when their owners get cross with them.

Its not their fault.    If you are one of those owners who have been angry at your dog for this then shame on you.    You should be cross with yourself.     Its not the dog's fault.   Its yours.

Even the Carnavon's at Highclere House (aka Downton Abbey) made this mistake of leaving stuff under their Christmas Tree and returned to find their dogs had ripped open and eaten most of the contents of presents ready to go to friends and family.  But only those containing food.

Over Christmas I spent a fortune on some speciality cheeses and after one gathering left them all on a plate in the kitchen.    Someone also left Molly in the kitchen.    I came through and she had a white ball in her mouth and was trying desperately, as she saw me, to swallow it whole in one gulp but it was too big.   She rather choked on it and dropped it on the floor.   She'd snaffled the entire wedge of goats cheese.     She looked guilty with those doe eyes but that reaction was due to my reaction.   My sharp intake of breath and a grap for the mushy, slobbery, goats cheese.    Who left the dog in the kitchen?    My son.    It was his fault.   Not Molly's.

DON'T LEAVE ANYTHING FOODIE WITHIN REACH OF ANY DOG AS YOU CAN'T BLAME THE DOG IF IT SCOFFS THE LOT- YOU HAVE TO BLAME YOURSELF FOR LEAVING IT THERE.

Molly's Been Sick Recovered Fingers Crossed Now

Started my Molly Dog Blog a couple of years ago now.    But life's stresses and strains made me forget to post particularly as Molly has had an immune system disease called Lupoid Onychodystrophy which attacked all her claws.   It has been horrible.

We go up to Scotland a lot and two years ago Molly couldn't settle on her sofa for the night and was in obvious pain.    It looked like her foot was causing the pain or her leg or her side.    See my previous blog about Bad Vet Man.

I was on my own with her and although it was 10pm in the evening thought I'd better get hold of the local vet rather than wait until the early hours when it may be worse - and pay more.     We have a small cottage up in the hills and along a track so its pretty remote.    Phoned the vet and he agreed to meet me at the surgery.

He saw what the problem was.    One of her nails had split, was obviously infected, and causing her pain.     Up goes Molly onto his table.    He holds her paw, turns around before I could blink, grabs something that looked like pliers, locks onto her nail and yanks it off, white muscle bits as well.    She screamed and leaped off the table.   The vet smiled and said job done.    I was totally shocked.

Molly recovered well.

Six months later down the line - and I am not saying that she got such a shock from the barbaric nail pull in Scotland but that was one of the theories - she was playing in a stream (Molly heads for water wherever it is) and yelped.     She refused to put her left hind leg down.     I had to haul her home with a combination of help from a total stranger, and half carrying her.      Off to my home vet and he thought she may have pulled a ligament.    Moll's not insured.   But the good news was it wasn't a pulled ligament but every single one of her claws on every single foot was infected and very painful for her.

My vet was good but didn't know what could have caused this inflammation.     You do though go along with what your vet says.    Poor little thing had all her nails taken off under a shot of sleeping stuff and had all her feet cleaned, dressed, and given anti-biotics.     She limped for weeks.     I had to help her to the loo in the garden.     It was an awful time.

It didn't seem to be clearing up so we went to Dick White Referrals in Newmarket, Suffolk, near where we live luckily.    Rosario was brilliant.  He knew instantly what it was.   He confirmed my internet diagnosis that it was Lupoid Ony.....thing.     It is a disease of the immune system but something had triggered this.    It could have been anything but my bet was on the nail pull in Scotland.     Moll was put onto lots of different pills and was put on special vegetarian dog food and extra vitamins and fish oils.

She has now been totally recovered for a year now and only takes special oil pills to strengthen her claws and to keep them in good condition.    And hopefully she has forgotten about the experience a lot.

But nah Molly hasn't really forgotten as about once every so often I do check her nails (all strong and squat but healthy) she pulls away and tail goes between her legs and she looks so downcast.    Then I release her paw(s) and she is so happy I get a run around the room where she is obviously joyous - nothing is wrong.

Every single black labrador owner I meet I often mention this disease.     Its not uncommon in certain other breeds of dogs BUT if your dog has black claws its very difficult to notice anything wrong in them.    Its a good idea to really check to see if claws are split and brittle which may indicate something more serious.

Its worth thinking about.

She has gone white around her muzzle and the odd white hair growing where black once did BUT she is healthy and although she's now 9 years old she skips around like a puppy.

MY MAJOR HERO DOG TODAYS DAILY TELEGRAPH

Did anyone see the article about the black labrador, Major, who saved many lives as a bomb sniffer dog in today's Daily Telegraph? He was a well loved and well looked after dog.

Sadly, some are not so lucky.

My dog Molly (pictured above) usually does exactly what I tell her to do when I tell her. OK....well perhaps not so immiedately if she is on the scent of a delicious rabbit or the exciting scent of a deer. She does it because I am the pack leader and she loves me and I love her. We have a bond.

When I was in Cairo recently I saw this lovely black labrador being treated so badly that I intervened. He was on duty outside The Hilton Hotel sniffing incoming cars for bombs. His handler, someone in the military, had his collar so tight that the dog could hardly breathe or drink. I went out to see him which is when I discovered this. The dog was pathetically friendly. I asked the handler to loosen the collar. He pretended he didn't understand.

I can get seriously angry at any animal cruelty. I went and roused the Manager of the hotel. I complained that the dog had the collar on so tightly that he wouldn't be able to sniff much and therefore it was a waste of time the dog being there! To give the man credit he did come out with me and remonstrated with the sentry. The man refused to do anyting saying that if he did the dog would run away.

I told the manager to translate and say "of course the dog would run away because he was being treated badly". I wonder if it was translated. Whenever a car arrived the dog would be yanked to its feet, pulled across to the car, and the poor thing tried to do his best.

He had no obvious water dish and this in a country where it was hot. Very hot.

I cried for weeks about this dog. I had tried to change his life a little for the best but it didn't work. When I returned to the UK I contacted one or two M.P.'s about the legislation required for UK dogs to be shipped to countries for sniffer duty when those countries had an appalling record of animal cruelty. Particularly, in countries where dogs are regarded as unclean.

I didn't get very far and then of course life went on and I was busy. I still think of that dog.

He wouldn't have had a good retirement like Major in today's paper. He was probably shot and his body tossed onto a smelly heap of rubbish at the back of The Hilton Hotel.

I just wish every tourist who visits such countries would complain bitterly to anyone who will listen. To their hotel, to their representative, to fellow travellers, to the travel company when they come back and to the Embassy of the country they visited.

If everyone did that then people would see that it does make a difference to treat animals well because if they don't they will suffer economically.

Personally, I always hesitate to go to countries where I will see animal cruelty in large numbers because its not a holiday as I always have to do something and that doesn't make you popular with your fellow travellers and friends.

Bit of a yardstick about friends that................

Will We Have Snow for Christmas

This is a picture of Molly last March in Scotland in deep deep snow. This is the front garden normally a tatty lawn but after several feet of snow Moll was puzzled and sank up to her tum in the soft bits.

Mind you lucky thing was light enough to skate across most of this. I on the other hand got stuck after two strides.

We are spending Christmas Day with friends who also have dogs so it will be a dog friendly day. Unfortunately, they are mainly greedy labradours and you have to watch the food on various tables as it does go missing however hard you shout to "leave".

Mind you after several glasses of The Widow Cliquot you don't actually care what the dogs do.

The next day clearing up you certainly mind. A whole ham went last year. Sadly, it was the ham I'd brought to the feast and although I haven't said anything I think it was Molly who brought it down off the kitchen table when we were all slurping and munching in the dinning room with the log fire roaring.

Quite a fun Christmas.

On Boxing Day we are entertaining here with non-doggy cousins. They love Moll but don't like it when she jumps up or retrieves something from a present heap.

A Happy Christmas to all who read this blog - precisely no-one at the moment. I wonder what you have to do to get a blog following. I am not going down the shock horror secret expose route - although I did use to work in the film industry and often thought of writing my memoirs and to blow the lid open on several scandals!!! Perhaps that's for another blog.

I like my dog blog.

Who is Fenton?

Everyone who owns a black labrador is in on this! Who is Fenton? The black labradour with a suffering "posh" owner who screamed "Jesus Christ" when it was obvious his dog was going to not only round up the deer in Richmond Park but he was going to chase them to the end.

My suggestion for what its worth is that they don't live in the park area. If they did someone would have earned a fortune from the press by naming them. By now probably the poor dog has had a name change. Mind you its earned the bright young man who took the film lots of dosh through YouTube.

Molly often chases deer when she gets the scent (see those above who she did go after when we surprised them) but she is so well behaved that when I shout at her - very loudly as she was in the zone - she stops and comes back.

You have to be on the ball as when a dog gets "in the zone" its totally deaf to any shouting, calling, or entreaties so you have to keep an eye out and as soon as they get into "chase mode" you have to know your dog to spot it - AND STOP IT.

Did you live nearish to Richmond Park? Did you have a visitor that weekend with a black lab?

BONE SCOFFING NOT A GOOD IDEA

This morning when I came down Molly was unwilling to jump off the sofa and looked very 'umbled in a Uriah Heap sort of way.

This usually means she's been up to something.

Looked around and couldn't see anything amiss. She still refused to budge off the comfy sofa. Wouldn't look me in the eye. Wasn't pleased to see me at all as she usually is. Heart in mouth moment. Was she sick?

The test of that is to give her food. If she refuses it then she is probably sickening for something. I got the usual breakfast and rattled the bowl in the kitchen. A thundering down the corridor and a skid into the kitchen. Nah......... she was fine.

But she still looked sheepish.

I went back into the TV room (where she sleeps on the sofa). There is a patterned rug so it was difficult to see anything wrong. But when I had a really close look (rather than being blurred by sleep) I spotted a brown goo. Ugh. Whipped it up with kitchen roll and inspected the mess.

In amongst the brown gunk was a small but very pointed bone. Molly had picked it up from somewhere the day before and had been sick.

I am NEVER ever cross when she is sick- Labradors eat anything so its an occupational hazard - but for some reason she knows its not a good thing and has this sheepish and contrite look. Its the same look she gives me when she slinks off after nicking something from the kitchen.

Mind you its lucky she was sick. The sharp bone could have pierced something inside and that would have been nasty.

Phew................

POOR DYING CORMORANT

Just up from this rather pretty tree path is a man made lake made by a rich neighbour! Have to say its been done well and been there nearly ten years. There are lots of different birds and on a passing footpath you often get several anoraks with binoculars.

Went walking there today. By the side of the lake Molly found a bird - her tail wagging nearly giving her lift off. This poor Cormorant was really ill. I think its neck was broken. It could hardly move. But it was alive and the keys kept on blinking whilst its poor body was gently heaving. Miles away from anywhere what was I to do. I have to say I cried a bit about the pointlessness of it all and how fragile life is.

I held its body and it didn't flinch. Poor little thing. The sun was shining and it was a lovely autumn day and this bird was dying.

I walked away and said to myself that if its still alive when I get back I will take it to a vet.

I walked back and it was barely still alive. But whilst walking I thought more about it and I thought "what would I like if it was me". A pretty daft thing to think about but would I want in my last moments of life to be carried by an alien being, moved about a lot, stressed out a lot, and then poked around by another alien being. Probably dying of a heart attack along the route.

Or would I like to end my days peacefully in the sunshine amongst things I knew.

I moved the head so it was more comfortable and left it.

Don't even get me started about mixie rabbits.

Molly and I continued back home in the autumnal sunshine and both very subdued. Me because I saw my own mortality in the bird and Moll because I was sad.

BAD VET MAN

As you know just back from Scotland where Moll walked LOTS. We went around Loch Muick a short distance from Charles and Camilla's country pad (you can also see Queen Vic's picnic house in the distance). Its our favourite walk. No royals in view. Phew..........

The day after this hike Molly wasn't herself. She was uncomfortable and I thought she was limping a bit. But after an early morning little walk around the Estate where we stay she was beyond excited following last night's scent marks and her limp vanished. But it came back when she wasn't distracted.

I looked and looked at her paw and could see nothing obvious. A small cut on one of her pads I thought was causing her discomfort. MOTTO TO THIS STORY DON'T THINK YOU KNOW BEST. I waited and thought she would lick the wound clean and it would heal and not be a problem.

It seemed to get better (or was it my mean streak kicking in) until at about 10.30pm when she couldn't settle down to snooze at all and she was in pain. We go up to Scotland a lot but have never visited the vet. This time I was on my own and the thought of getting up in the middle of the night with a sick dog filled me with fear. I called the vet. He agreed to meet me at his clinci which was (this is lucky for the Highlands) only 15mins away.

As soon as he saw her he said he knew the problem. Pop her up on the table. We both had to do that. And then he told me to hold her down. I held her tight whilst he examined her paw. He turned to the left grabbed something aimed for her paw and pulled. She squealed, struggeld and leapt off the table. I nearly fainted with shock at the squeal. Poor little thing she was terrified. The vet was holding this torture implement with a white strand of something attached.

What the hell did you do? She had a split claw, he explained, and it was causing her great pain and it had to come out. Don't you do anesthetic? Or a pain killer? Nope he said its easier like this.

The only consolation was that it only cost me £35.00 which I thought was really, really, and really good. Down in our part of England a night call out with treatment would have gone over the £200 mark!!!!

But in the coming week she was the star of the show. Everyone was horrified that the vet didn't give her any pain relief BEFORE the PULL.

In two days she was fine.

Again, the moral is that if you can't see something wrong it doesn't mean that there isn't. And split claws are the most painful thing for any dog. If your dog has a split claw its the most difficult thing to spot unless its hanging off..........and particularly if the dog's claw and paw are black.

To my many fans - precisely one - just to say we are back after a two year absence !

I've been working hard and being part of the sandwich generation so not much time to write the dog blog.

Molly is enjoying herself in the Scottish Highlands - see above - and although she is a bit greyer around the muzzle she is still enoying life and we are now back with the pack.

Watch out for more information and stuff...............lotsa tips for dog owners and please wotch out for my regular weekend rants about animal cruelty and making sure you know what you are doing with your best friend.

MOLLY COMES HOME

I got the call. My puppy was ready. Mum was ready to see the back of her unruly offspring! The dog mother I mean.

Molly had a little orange collar on and all her siblings had had different coloured collars as they nearly all looked alike. Molly of course was the cutest. My eldest son came with me. We arrived with a good bottle of Veuve Cliquot to toast the occasion and by the time it was time to go I was a bit “out of the zone” so it was lucky I wasn’t driving.

Molly was mine. At last.

I staggered into the front seat with her in my arms and she didn’t make a murmur. I’d been away on a long holiday (I’d been advised to go away before taking on my dog as it would be some time before I could go away again) so Molly was the last of the puppies to go. I felt dreadful and really emotional. Emily, the mother, had disappeared as though she knew that was it.

I suddenly burst into tears as I realised I had torn this little thing away from her mother and brothers and sister. Even though it was only Mum left. What I was doing was to relate dogs to humans and how I would have felt if I had lost my children. Not sure whether it was the champagne or the emotion speaking. My son died of embarrassment. Luckily he didn’t die for long as he had to take the wheel.

Just before I went off on holiday I had taken an old t-shirt over to Mrs. Browning. She had put it in amongst all the dogs. It came away smelling of them all so when we drove away we had Molly, her orange collar, and a smelly t-shirt. It would calm her apparently and is a clever thing to do when you are taking a puppy away from all it has known. At least it has some smells of its old life and gives it some re-assurance.

I didn’t work for the first two weeks. I work a lot from home so it was easier BUT I didn’t take any phone calls. It was as though we were on a different planet.

I wanted to give Molly all my undivided attention. To have a happy dog I believe you have to put in a lot of time and trouble for those first few weeks. You can’t get a puppy and then leave it for hours at a time because it suits you. It’s unkind and spectacularly cruel. Then people wonder why their puppy is difficult. It’s not the puppy. It’s the thoughtless way you’ve behaved.

We had made part of the house puppy-proof. We’d changed a good 17th Century Oak Kitchen Table to a cheap pine charity shop table. We’d changed good 17th Century Oak Kitchen Chairs to cheap Stickback chairs. Anything of value that could have been chewed had been taken out and stored in an outhouse.

I knew puppies would chew. Everyone should know that. It’s a natural thing and puppies should NOT be punished for doing it. It’s to strengthen their teeth and to allow the baby milk teeth to fall out easily. Once that has happened they suddenly stop chewing. Then you can move your good furniture back.

I didn’t care if she chewed cheap stuff……..go for it girl!

I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Whoops…………

First of all though we had to get through the first night.

The pitiful crying of a lonely puppy left on its own for the first time in a strange home is horrendous.

What did we do? Did I survive? Did I go and comfort her?

THE VERY BEGINNING

When I had made THE decision to get a Labradour puppy the next step was WHERE and what colour.
The colour was quite easy. I’d had friends who’d got cream labs and they always had white hairs on their clothes and you’d have to do a lot more hovering. I’ve got a few really expensive LBD’s and so that was out. It would have to be a black one.
I was also bit wary of the in-breeding element of the chocolate ones……….
I hit the telephone to all the farmers I knew quite well in my local area. Its full of farmers and so that seemed for me the most logical thing to do. I didn’t quite use the Yellow Pages but very nearly.
I believe that you should know where your dog is coming from. And it should come from a happy mum and a happy human family and you should know this family quite well. Or be in a position to raise merry hell if you’ve been sold a sick puppy. You wouldn’t in all honesty be able to give it back (and if you are one of those people then shame on you) but you could get your money back to help correct the problems.
Anyway, I found my family. They were a local farming family (thirty miles away and around here that’s local) where the family pet (don’t get me started yet on those who buy dogs to go shooting with) a black labradour Emily was pregnant with seven puppies and due in two months time.
I went along to meet Mum. She was a contented and very friendly dog who was allowed to wander around the house wherever she wanted and was plainly very much loved. A really good start.
Mrs. Browning was happy to put me on the “list” but she first gave me the third degree. Why did I want a dog? Where was it going to be kept? And it went on and on. I came away with a feeling of what it must be like to be crossing an illegal border! I was pleased though that at least they were keen to know where their puppies were going and how they were going to be treated.
We agreed the price and we also agreed that I wouldn’t choose “my puppy” but Mr. and Mrs. B. would! Why? Well they felt they would know the puppies best and would know what I wanted and could match me up with the puppy they thought would suit me. They did agree I could have a girl. Hopefully there would be a girl amongst them or else what would I do? Ah well………
And they also wanted to come and see the puppy after the first three months to see if I was keeping her properly and then again after six months. After that if they were happy then I would be left alone! If they were unhappy they would take my puppy back. On that they were most insistent.
Good for them. I only wish all puppies had owners who were concerned about where they were going and whether they would be well treated or not. They did say that they would refuse to give a puppy to a family with very small young children.
Why?
Because the puppy would not be treated well and would come last in the pecking order. If you are going to have a well trained dog you have to be able to have the time to train it properly and that starts from the word go………….no-one who has small demanding children can do that.
And also they would refuse to give a puppy to someone who would leave it in the house from the moment they left for work to the moment they came back. It is cruel.
I totally agreed. I was in an ideal position. I was in the right place to give my all to my new puppy. I was in pole position!
It was a good beginning………….
Emily went into labour on time but sadly lost two of the puppies. They were down to five! And miraculously there were two girls and three boys. I had my puppy. Finger’s crossed.
I went over immediately and of course fell in love with all of them. After the fourth drink of a good white Australia wine toasting the new arrivals I wanted to take all of them home – I did have the room – and was tempted to start my own pack.
Even at £500 each I didn’t care.
We agreed that I would come back a month later to see which one they had chosen out of the two girls for me! I couldn’t wait.
Unfortunately, I had to walk home.

THE START

After the last of my boys left for university I was a middle-aged-single-parent-empty-nester with time on my hands and on my own for the first time in my life rattling around in a crumbling damp country house miles from anywhere.
After the last man in my life decided to quit with the parting shot “if you want total devotion, constant bloody attention, and more cuddles get a dog” I realised I should give it serious thought because the phone doesn’t ring all that much in my rural part of England.
I thought about getting that dog for a couple of weeks. All of two “shall I or shall I not” weeks. What would I do if George Clooney telephoned and invited me on the off chance to Lake Maggiore for a long stay what would I do with it?
And I then thought a bit longer……….
The only really reliable man in my life lives thousands of miles away and only visits once a year. And he’s definitely too old to walk a dog. And even though I love the white beard and flowing locks and the red suit it is NOT enough. Sorry Father Christmas. I do want love and devotion and cuddles right now and dare I say the “c” word – companionship - with no arguments or cross words or demands to wash shirts and socks or food in an instant.
My big son clinched it when he said that my heavy duty torch kept by the bed to deter burglars could kill someone if I hit them hard enough and then I’d be locked up. And then he would be left trying to plug the leaks in the roof and he hadn’t got the time. He was working too hard at university. He thought it was better to get a guard dog preferably the most vicious nasty thing I could lay my hands on legally and let it prowl around the house at night.
So I got a black Labrador and a burglar alarm.
She’s called Molly (after my late aunt) and is now my new best friend and my shadow.
She came when she was four months old. Torn away from her mother and brothers and sisters which made me feel like Cruella de Vile as I picked her up and took her away forever.
We always had dogs at the house when I was a child but my parents always did the training and caring and stuff. Now it was down to me. It was a middle age steep learning curve.
And I am going to share it all with you.