tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82232761468008357512024-03-21T10:19:01.723+00:00Aire-headsAn apocalypse of Airedales - a catastrophe of cats.Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-26255507890710244382014-10-06T15:21:00.001+01:002014-10-06T15:21:13.932+01:00Big headDigger is a funny boy - sometimes grumpy with dogs, often terrified of simple things like lamp posts. For a while we've been going to agility classes to build up his confidence, especially around excited barking collies. Slowly but surely he is getting to grips with it. <div><br></div><div>Yesterday we did a full steeplechase course for the first time at our club competition. And despite having never done more than 5 obstacles in a row, he did six rounds with about 20. And blow me down, managed to snag a couple of rosettes!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTCBr4EU9Ofu5mqvqcbVXIZuMH9pxaakGBwAcJmCN0r5G1eNsx_DHEJPBca933WyjuphAr2G0Th6bg1Ha6a_RF0EjKxJ2k1K7tI5OOTLuIiQM0vjmLm-htyZZ9lAMAE0a4Uw1c-dkiSZQ/s640/blogger-image--685673341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTCBr4EU9Ofu5mqvqcbVXIZuMH9pxaakGBwAcJmCN0r5G1eNsx_DHEJPBca933WyjuphAr2G0Th6bg1Ha6a_RF0EjKxJ2k1K7tI5OOTLuIiQM0vjmLm-htyZZ9lAMAE0a4Uw1c-dkiSZQ/s640/blogger-image--685673341.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>And now he's all big-headed. </div><div><br></div><div>The truth is that in each round he kept wandering off to see people. Nosepoked the man with the stopwatch. Nosepoked daddy. Had a quick wrassle with Mojo and brought the perimeter fence down. But each time he came back and did the jump so nearly went clear. It was a slow-motion comedy. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm so proud of my boy. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-57615271100700696162014-07-02T16:46:00.001+01:002014-07-02T16:46:59.699+01:00Kids ask the darndest questionsThe boys are concentrating very hard. Wimbledon is on the tv and the laptop is streaming live World Cup football.<br />
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"Dad...?"<br />
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"Why isn't England playing?"<br />
<br />Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-48041277240914435322014-06-25T17:28:00.001+01:002014-06-25T17:28:11.447+01:00Comfy campingThis is the view from my pillow this morning, my big-nose girly stealing my bed space and oxygen. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qZ_J6vL6IMIVXHKAg5nCwZYEtoKD7Cng7aBtMluZV7IMDx2b_ZsxOawdhwiBSr9z6XE8OFlXJp0FBogMYZZO9fw7dwt0Zz_-3usZRiftilRASRbF1o_9BpoJg6sGWhblIq8UtQLUdcM2/s640/blogger-image--1518686781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qZ_J6vL6IMIVXHKAg5nCwZYEtoKD7Cng7aBtMluZV7IMDx2b_ZsxOawdhwiBSr9z6XE8OFlXJp0FBogMYZZO9fw7dwt0Zz_-3usZRiftilRASRbF1o_9BpoJg6sGWhblIq8UtQLUdcM2/s640/blogger-image--1518686781.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We thought we'd start with a one-night camping trip to remind them how it works. Shouldn't have worried. They were fabulous (apart from when we passed some cats in a fishing village, but the less said about that the better). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hooray for summer!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-73401522151106124692014-06-18T10:09:00.000+01:002014-06-18T10:09:09.527+01:00Goof o'clockEvery night, around tea time, the Dales remind us why we no longer have a nice garden.<br />
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If it won't bounce back from the horizontal, it's done for.<br />
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Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-58317550010048783692014-06-12T10:24:00.001+01:002014-06-12T10:33:51.718+01:00CobwebsWhat's that Mojo? The blog is what? Oh, yes, gathering cobwebs. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKWedjg24YsBb3kNv-o83g_0zu_lu_S8kyAyyjZVo7snuxPAX1YteAPd1AhC8VmeXVtKiI9ArLSjelnubnin8oyvsENTmMP1S_4ZpKpivv0zBFq6uCaZVwSoFpHhSgFrAZJEKkUBkinuc/s640/blogger-image--2033362925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKWedjg24YsBb3kNv-o83g_0zu_lu_S8kyAyyjZVo7snuxPAX1YteAPd1AhC8VmeXVtKiI9ArLSjelnubnin8oyvsENTmMP1S_4ZpKpivv0zBFq6uCaZVwSoFpHhSgFrAZJEKkUBkinuc/s640/blogger-image--2033362925.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I see what you mean. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">OK, but if we're going to blog, you're going to have to go public with your naughtiness. Yes, I will tell everyone how you ran off yesterday when Dad took you for a walk. How he watched your little fuzzy derrière disappear across the fields along to the next farm. How he had to go home with Digger, pump up the bike tyres and come out searching. How the two gents already searching for your best friend Eireann the red setter joined the hunt. How he gave up, cycled a mile home to spot you prowling up the lane. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Let's go back a day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Here's Remus. Aka "The Darkness". He's huge. He's got hip dysplasia. He's also the most incredibly successful hunter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdmp80p5nwciK3FFInKDwMcOYu0F6l_XoLSX5C8OAsIT6wjEeJC4r8NXaTFKeQmgZTT_PQSsuMpk_y6ygf6o5i8QWEIyVqJSdiNEGLI72pJtcyW8gxgSqAS3JdaxRjHe0CWg6CcxayOSA/s640/blogger-image--823176019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdmp80p5nwciK3FFInKDwMcOYu0F6l_XoLSX5C8OAsIT6wjEeJC4r8NXaTFKeQmgZTT_PQSsuMpk_y6ygf6o5i8QWEIyVqJSdiNEGLI72pJtcyW8gxgSqAS3JdaxRjHe0CWg6CcxayOSA/s640/blogger-image--823176019.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Anyway, Mum is weeding the veg plot and Remus lazily chases a bunny out if the grass. It does a quick left turn and bolts to the gate, where two incredulous Airedales stood with their mouths open. You've waited 8 years to catch one, haven't you, Mojo? You didn't have to squeeze it so hard did you? Dad swung into action and rescued it, only to have one of the chickens rush over and try to peck its eye. It's a horror movie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Anyway, since then you've been on a prey drive high and all you want to do is look for bunnies, even if that means running off. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Here's the problem though. A few hours after you were reunited with Dad down the lane, our neighbour found that same pecking chicken deceased in their driveway. Just down that lane. Was it you? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Digger would like to point out that he is never ever naughty. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tF09sdnNVg1A2UKYYE7eLEMhQ-zesw2y3hPKVBDeJv6rmpRYffwZ3mtdruxQqRLpWaFMKwJMU9kmSDiJ5vFuSHX1HcpooLEnCjP0RGZXj7Ganh1VWDPTe7zmYKH2q5LZpc4MzGnbZYxR/s640/blogger-image-1330930640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tF09sdnNVg1A2UKYYE7eLEMhQ-zesw2y3hPKVBDeJv6rmpRYffwZ3mtdruxQqRLpWaFMKwJMU9kmSDiJ5vFuSHX1HcpooLEnCjP0RGZXj7Ganh1VWDPTe7zmYKH2q5LZpc4MzGnbZYxR/s640/blogger-image-1330930640.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">(And if you believe that, you believe anything - Mum)</div><br></div><br></div>Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-83668458228798813152014-03-31T09:08:00.001+01:002014-03-31T13:19:39.801+01:00World's worst bloggersWe do a lot of this....<br />
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....and we completely forget to blog. Oops. </div>
Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-40251978585191126862012-09-17T09:15:00.000+01:002012-09-17T09:15:25.658+01:00Pups go wild part 2So what's it like to share a tent with two bears? Well, cooking dinner went without a hitch while the sun set and a heavy dewfall misted across the field. <br />
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They were both so tired from the day's fun they really just wanted to crash. But of course, Mojo can't just settle down - she has to do a few loops of the tent between the inner and the outer, then escape under a flap and set off to check the food status of our tent neighbours. Digger was fabulous. Sleep here, mummy? OK. <br />
Granted, they both felt obliged to stand on Dad at 3am and polish his face a bit.<br />
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Morning was so chilly the poor bears were shivering. Mojo had her coat stripped the week before so was especially miserable. So what can you do? Make towel togas, of course. Or Dogas, as we now call them. They really didn't understand why their mummy was laughing so hard. <br />
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A nice early start for another walk. Not so sunny at first. <br />
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This photo makes the cliffs look small but they are huge - check the size of the waves. <br />
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We had elevenses on the beach between two little waterfalls and the bears ran amok looking for things. I'm amazed how fast they move on these stones - it's really hard work for a human but they have four wheel drive and run full tilt over them. We did a lot of grimacing and telling Mojo to mind her arthritic hips.<br />
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Then we went back to another beach where a stream made a paddling pool on its way to the sea. While we waited for some small children to get out of our pool we played on the rocks. Mojo set off first:<br />
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The boys followed, but then Digger lost his nerve and stood there looking droopy and miserable as usual.<br />
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Mojo waited and mocked him gently.<br />
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Until he came and sat in the same spot while managing to look droopy and miserable. He's a funny chap, so different to Mojo. She's so bold and full of ideas, and he's so unsure and full of worries. Then again, he's so good at cuddles and Mojo breaks your heart by saying eeewwww to public displays of affection.<br />
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Once the kids (and their icecream and toys) left the paddling pool we sent the bears in. No photos of swimmy action as we were too busy throwing sticks and trying unsuccessfully to get Digger to get more than his toes wet. But here's a view upstream to the most delightful old cottage.<br />
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Wish you could all come to Devon and play!<br />
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<br />Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-51214543558437701622012-09-14T11:08:00.000+01:002012-09-14T11:08:46.934+01:00AhemI'm pretty certain the cats are not to blame for this:<br />
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It's a pretty thorough disembowelling of the futon. Notice the yellow throw that was moved over first. With added cardboard box shreddings for a scene of complete devastation.<br />
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The process:<br />
Firstly Digger notices the cotton tassels that tantalisingly hold the filling in place<br />
Then Mojo decides to have a lie down which requires a quick dig before circling a few times and going flump.<br />
The digging opens a tiny rip, right next to a tassel which Digger is keeping an eye on.<br />
They take turns to poke said hole.<br />
They take turns burying a tennis ball in the hole to surprise themselves with.<br />
As the daleks would say: EX-CA-VATE, EX-CA-VATE<br />
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We used to have another futon sofabed years back, which Mojo <a href="http://mojoairedale.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-was-bored.html">dealt with in her puppyhood</a>. Some things never change, eh?Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-81777461407809928652012-09-10T17:41:00.001+01:002012-09-10T17:41:31.289+01:00Pups go wildIn the years Before Airedales we used to love going camping, but since Mojo arrived we've only been twice. At first she was too young for the walking, then I had a broken ankle, then she had a crisis of hip dysplasia, then Digger arrived and was too young. Oh, and the weather. Did I mention the weather? This summer has been the wettest on record, and when the sun shines we seem to be nursing sick dogs. Bah. So this weekend was our last chance and we headed out to our favourite camping spot at <a href="http://www.westcountry-camping.co.uk/" rel="nofollow">Stoke Barton Farm</a> on Hartland Point, north Devon.<br />
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While we set up the tent Digger sniffed the sea air and Mojo had her happy grin on.<br />
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It's a fabulous campsite, huge and uncrowded, high above the sea. See those spikes on the left in the next pic? That's the highest church tower in Devon but it's hiding behind the hill. Every trip back from the facilities meant a race down the hill.<br />
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Digger is fast. He gets down long and low, and thunders past Mojo.<br />
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The bottom of the camping field has a gate to this path:<br />
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And this is what is on the other side of the hill. Can you imagine a better place to camp?<br />
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We headed to the beach that you can see just peeking out from behind St Catherines Mount. As with any walk along this coast there's a lot of steep up and down, and dogs have to be firmly on a lead because of the cliff edges. But we were in luck as the tide was out.<br />
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As usual, Mojo swam but Digger was a wimp and ran away from the tiny waves. Mojo didn't want to leave, but we had a thirst and the pub was a few hills along.<br />
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We had a well-earned pint at the Wreckers Retreat at Hartland Quay, beneath the spectacular cliffs. Sadly no dogs allowed on this beach, but plenty of people willing to feed their fish 'n chips to two Airedales who give such sad hungry eyes.<br />
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And afterwards a steep haul back up the cliff to get back to the tent.<br />
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So did the Dales behave in the tent? Was it an Apocalypse of Airedales? I'll let you know next installment. :)Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-16699984241831755882012-08-25T18:56:00.000+01:002012-08-25T18:56:20.353+01:00You ate what?<br />
Digger spent most of yesterday miserable and horribly inert at times. No barking at the postman, no drooling over our dinner, only eating under sufferance when I hand fed him morsels of rice and fish. He wouldn't walk more than a few steps before giving up - I guess because of stomach cramps. My poor sweet boy did manage a momentary grin at me when I came back from walking Mojo. Needless to say we were getting really concerned, and he slept in our room so we could keep an ear on him. Throughout it all his breathing and heart rate stayed normal, so we thought we'd wait till morning before taking him back to the vets and scheduling an x-ray. (It's odd, but whenever one of our four-legged family has a crisis, it's always a bank holiday.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0EyAA6xwVCjCeULzhjp8tiCfVJn1blj1YJijpgAjNW6bXfOdfNGCSpAYoLtRaLg0lFpg5vvpz0KT7UzveGPVQMn_ssFv9QS6EKFCPZ9O-8dZGv4k71KVpyrydyOkqvDMjDp04RLETCNJK/s1600/Aireheads-reedmace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0EyAA6xwVCjCeULzhjp8tiCfVJn1blj1YJijpgAjNW6bXfOdfNGCSpAYoLtRaLg0lFpg5vvpz0KT7UzveGPVQMn_ssFv9QS6EKFCPZ9O-8dZGv4k71KVpyrydyOkqvDMjDp04RLETCNJK/s320/Aireheads-reedmace.jpg" width="228" /></a>Anyway, this morning he had the poop to end all poop. A proper Digger dumper. And most of it was tough plant material (not sticks, thank goodness, so no perforation scare) that was instantly recognisable as reedmace. There was one particularly tough chunk complete with roots.<br />
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Mojo discovered reedmace a long time ago. We live along a canal with wild vegetation on the banks - in fact, the exact conditions that Airedales were originally bred to hunt along. Mojo pulls the tall stems up, then peels the tough outer layers to find a soft, floury core that's totally yummy. It was a food source our ancestors probably used before agriculture. Smart Mojo figured it out very quickly. Digger, on the other hand, has very little common sense, and seems to have just devoured the lot.<br />
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Anyway, he's feeling much better since his apocryphal toilet time. He's going to take a few days to get back to his usual self, but his appetite and joy for life are back. <br />
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Many thanks for your Airezen. It worked! Especially on a mummy who was feeling helpless and worried sick.<br />
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So, Digger...<br />
You were only a few months old when you ate a visiting child's sock and had to be rushed to the vet.<br />
You were about a year old when you tried to eat a fishhook with three barbs and mummy had to catch it just before it went past the root of your tongue and down your throat.<br />
And at a year and half you've tried to top yourself with a reedmace.<br />
Pack it in!Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-56223532785926946092012-08-24T19:28:00.000+01:002012-08-24T19:30:55.559+01:00pear shapedThere's a great British phrase - things going pear-shaped. It's when everything just goes a bit awry. And that's been the story of the last few weeks. So the Olympic tribute went out the window.<br />
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Once the extra menagerie went home and we didn't have to keep the doors shut and half the house barricaded (dog in season), we thought we'd relax. But then my computer started having fits and I spent forever sorting out the problem. Good job too, as I've been asked to do a bit of post-production on some photos for a charity calendar. The photos are of people who work in a beautiful National Trust garden near here, and in keeping in the spirit of charity calendars they are all naked save for a strategically placed plant or watering can. Ha! I'd love to show you but I think that might be a bit too much!<br />
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Anyway, the real pear-shaped moment is Digger, who is not well at all. He's been a bit peaky for a few days and has vomited a few times; not unusual for a dog who likes to eat <i>everything</i>. But last night he was sick everywhere, and today he's carried on the same. He's so miserable. The vets can't feel a blockage and his temperature and heart rate seemed ok so he had an anti-vomit injection and we see how he goes. But he's not a happy chap. Completely off his food, and feeling lousy. If he's the same tomorrow we'll be back to the vets. Even if they x-ray him they may not be able to see soft blockages, and which bit to open up? I must admit we're feeling really tense and worried right now. So any Aire-zen would be appreciated.<br />
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Here's a pic of the little chap exactly a year ago, when he decided to check on my painting with a nose-poke or two.<br />
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<br />Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-74369053498304408312012-08-04T19:24:00.000+01:002012-08-04T19:24:34.276+01:00Olympics day 8So what Olympic sport suits a pack of four dogs? All kinds of running, of course.<br />
Running one way:<br />
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running the other way:<br />
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and running all ways at once:<br />
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Things were going just fine until we tried to organise a proper start. Time after time, a certain young Airedale boy with fast-twitch reactions kept doing false starts:<br />
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The starter man had to step in and read him the riot act. One more false start and you're out. Okay, okay, I'll be good, says Digger.<br />
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Oops.<br />
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D is for dog.<br />
D is for Digger.<br />
D is for disqualified.Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-45613179543334062972012-08-03T19:10:00.001+01:002012-08-03T19:10:45.596+01:00Olympics day 7Now if there's one thing the humans in this house disagree on, it's how much football is enough football. So although one of us was hoping to avoid a football tribute, it's inevitable considering there are two bears who never tire of playing it.<br />
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There are serious tackles:<br />
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some serious teeth:<br />
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and some serious attempts to run over the photographer:<br />
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We confess that our Olympic tribute is a little lacking in verve today, because canine chaos has arrived in our house. See the big fella below?<br />
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That's Sol, who we have for a couple of weeks every year while his people go on holiday. Well, a day before they were off this time he was hit with a horrible gastric thing that had him vomiting and pooing blood. So for the last week we've been doling out an endless array of tablets that all happen at different points throughout the day, and having to cajole him to eat. We even had to syringe water into his chops as he just wasn't drinking. Well, he's feeling much better now, thank goodness. Meanwhile, his sissy was staying with another family, but she's come into season and they have an entire male... so now we have her too. Daisy is hormonal and can't be let off the lead, Sol is feeling well enough to try to mount her continually (even though he's been 'done') and Digger is having serious issues with mummy's divided attention. Mojo is just being perfect, thank goodness. We're going to need that bottle of Ouzo when our friends get back from Greece!<br />
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Walkies looks like Ben Hur's chariot race but with the perfect country collection: two Airedales, a huge lurcher and a spaniel/lab cross. Or as we call them: two bears, a wolf and a beaver.<br />
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Wish us luck!Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-52870481384275003382012-08-02T18:16:00.001+01:002012-08-02T18:16:19.605+01:00Olympics day 6The best thing about the Olympics is that you find yourself watching sports you know nothing about and still end up cheering like crazy. I've been fascinated by the judo all week, but today things reached a peak with the finals of the ladies 78kg. I shed a tear or two, for the British woman competing in the memory of her mother, and the American winner who had to overcome appalling circumstances to get there.<br />
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Anyway, I still know little about judo. I can tell you that there are points scored for different throws. The lowest points are given for a yuko, which throws the opponent on their side. Here Mojo (at 5 months old) demonstrates how:<br />
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The highest points - and an immediate win - is for a ippon, which involves throwing the opponent onto their back. Mojo demontrates here with her pal Harvey:<br />
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Harvey was only 6 months old in these pics - he's part Saluki and is now twice the size. Even at 6 months he gave as good as he got:</div>
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Opponents can signal submission. Either by grinning:<br />
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Or by making noises like a whoopee cushion:<br />
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It didn't take long for Digger to get the rules. Just squash your sissy and bite!<br />
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<br />Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-70347525361950463722012-08-01T18:52:00.000+01:002012-08-01T18:52:12.266+01:00Olympics day 5So four badminton teams have been disqualified for not trying hard enough. Harrumph! You would <i>never</i> say that about an Airedale. Although Mojo can be selectively deaf on recall unless she sees proof of biscuit rewards.<br />
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Anyway, our tribute today has to be swimming, what with Michael Phelps being both awesome in winning and gracious in defeat, and Chad le Clos's father being spectacularly emotional and thrilled.<br />
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We're lucky to live next to a canal that has been turned into a country park (for wildlife and people). For the first two years of Mojo's life she would paddle daily but only up to her armpits. In winter she'd lick the ice to try and break through to the wet stuff. Then one day we went up into Dartmoor, got into our swimmies and took her in the deep bit of the river. The penny dropped, and now we can't keep her out.<br />
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We keep a stash of sticks in a tree, and believe me she knows which tree it is. So in she goes.<br />
She always has to turn to the left, probably to do with her left hip being weaker. I'm always amazed she doesn't inhale a gallon of water when carrying sticks back.<br />
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Good job Airedales have semi-webbed feet. I love the periscope tail!<br />
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In fact, this next pic makes me wonder if those old sightings of the Loch Ness monster were simply swimming Airedales - the serpent shapes following the high-held head... <br />
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Such a happy bear. Luckily she hasn't chased after any ducks yet, but give it time. <br />
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Meanwhile, Digger is absolutely , never ever going to get his belly wet, no-sirree-bob, not on your nelly. Heh heh. What a wimp.Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-42152387057588006482012-07-31T19:28:00.001+01:002012-07-31T19:28:47.685+01:00Olympics day 4I've not had any chance to get out with the camera today so I've trawled the archives for a suitable Olympic tribute. This is from a few years back, and I was laughing too hard to focus, but it's perfect for a nod to the Olympic shooting.<br />
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I'm not sure who is more ridiculous, Mojo or the Man (aka The Dog Butler, 'cos he opens all the doors and does all the driving).<br />
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We had to hide the water pistol because she used to bark incessantly until we picked it up, and her excited bark is ear-splittingly shrill. It makes me feel like my brain will leak out my ears if exposed to it for too long.<br />
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And I had to include this as a bonus pic - this is the face Digger pulled as we tried to set up the shuttlecock shot. Those reproachful eyes! That sad face! My handsome boy.<br />
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<br />Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-71481681275446690612012-07-30T19:00:00.002+01:002012-07-30T19:00:37.861+01:00Olympics - day 3Yesterday, when I said there was no chance of doing a tribute to the canoe slalom, I forgot about this:<br />
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Granted, it's a sheep trough in a sea of grass, but there is water involved. And Mojo being a goofball. I hope it counts.<br />
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Right, got to dash, the GB men's gymnastic team are about to win a medal and it's way too exciting.Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-29946150655423355392012-07-29T18:41:00.000+01:002012-07-29T18:41:07.240+01:00Olympics day 2Well, it's day 2 of the Olympics and we've been scratching our collective heads on which sport to feature. The cycling would be tricky without opposable thumbs, even though the capacity for complete chaos is greatly appealing to an Airedale. Digger refuses to get his feet wet so canoe slalom is out. Beach volleyball seemed a possibility until we mentioned bikini at which point he gave us a tragi-comic look and went off to chew his feet.<br />
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In the end we went the easy route and had a game of volleyball.<br />
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Mojo makes up for her arthritic hips with her superior nose/eye coordination. I'm not entirely sure we could pass them off for a team, though. Once that ball got to ground level it was all bears for themselves. I bet real volleyball players don't puncture all their balls and expect someone to pump them up after every point.Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-47207741813705394342012-07-28T18:08:00.000+01:002012-07-28T18:08:26.451+01:00Olympic fever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Woo hoo! The Olympics are finally here! Did you see that opening ceremony? The lighting of the cauldron with the Olympic flame made our hair stand on end, and there's a few in this house who have quite a lot of hair. <br />
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Back in May the torch route passed through Devon, but sadly we were unable to get to it. Although there was a niggling thought that two Airedales, running people, fire and national tv crews were a recipe for disaster. We'd just like to state that the 'rogue dog' than ran through the middle of the cycle race today was nothing to do with us.<br />
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Anyway, we're still getting into the Olympic spirit. Yesterday just after 8am there was a mass bell ringing, and how could we refuse? Three minutes of Digger losing his mind with excitement. I was laughing too hard to photograph him so I had to re-enact it this afternoon. Yep, he still loved it. I also discovered that he barks at the same rate as my camera shutter fires on continuous release as I ended up with 30 shots which had his mouth shut. Spooky, as I swear his mouth was open and yelling the entire time.<br />
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Anyway, he shouldn't think it's all fun and games. Just like the athletes, there is a lot of tension in getting a performance right. Trying to get a shuttlecock to balance on his head is a serious business. There's the added stress of knowing the wide angle lens is going to make his nose look even bigger, too.<br />
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We've been really bad at getting round to blogging recently, so we've decided to challenge ourselves to posting daily through the Olympics. The idea is to create an Airedale tribute to a different sport every day. We started with Badminton, which kicked off today. Lightning fast reaction times and chasing after little flying things gets the seal of Airedale approval.<br />
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Any other dog-bloggers want to join in? (cat bloggers, hammie bloggers etc too).The Cat Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534011693583966755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-64805652228044804742012-02-20T18:46:00.000+00:002012-02-20T18:46:01.040+00:00Big fella<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Yesterday Mr Hormones turned One. The weather gods smiled and we hit the beach. </div>
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Mojo used to be in sole charge of the tennis balls... </div>
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...but that was before that little puppy grew into a hulking, speedy, greedy adolescent dog.<br />
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Digger is a handsome chap, but doesn't believe in sharing toys. He's still very respectful of Mojo's food, but simply grabs any toy he wants straight out of her mouth. </div>
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And pulls this face at the humans. It says "betcha want this" and "can't have it" in one easy look. There's a touch of "go on, chase me" in there, too.</div>
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He easily finds the only stick on the entire beach.</div>
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But that doesn't mean he's letting go of the ball. He is, however, a little confused about some other (ahem) balls the humans keep talking about. Apparently they need to go. Something to do with them growing faster than his brain. </div>
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Perhaps they're right, because Mojo can run rings around him in the strategy department. She's a girl brimming with smart ideas, and he's such a wimp. </div>
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But it always ends up with him playing hit and run. </div>
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Such a fabulous morning, though. We set out early to hit low tide and it was wonderfully warm and still, and the colours of the water and cliffs were lovely. These cliffs are at the beginning of the famous Jurassic Coast of Devon and Dorset. </div>
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Stupidly someone mentioned a fry-up on the way home, and it's one of those things that you know you'll have to do once you've mentioned it. Very thin slices of crispy oak-smoked bacon and scrambled eggs from our own chickens. Don't mention diet, ok? </div>
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Look at those faces! Mojo has her best princess pup-girl look on and Digger is all greedy sly eyes. He hoped for a birthday plate of his own. But as always, they extracted a tithe. <br />
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<br />Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-40326991971328432042012-02-07T09:27:00.000+00:002012-02-07T09:27:56.121+00:00Doctor WhoImagine if Doctor Who had Airedales as his assistants.<br />
They are brave, helpful, enthusiastic and mad as a hatter. They don't pay much attention to that timey-wimey stuff and love to press buttons they shouldn't just to see what happens. Happy to bark at daleks. Scoff at anyone who calls themselves The Master. <br />
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<br />We got this printed on an iPhone case as a birthday present for Mum's niece, who lives way over the other side of the world. Hope she likes it!Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-58156294607871181352012-02-04T14:44:00.001+00:002012-02-04T14:45:22.830+00:00DiggerThis blog used to <i>just</i> for Mojo. But then so did the dog food.<br />
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Meet Digger aka "Captain Cuddle".<br />
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Handsome, yes? He's going to be a year old in two weeks. He's already 30kg and in the full throes of adolescence. Poor boy fell desperately in love with Mojo this week - triggered by them both having a bath and coming up fragrant with cinnamon dog shampoo. Nothing rude going on, just heartbreaking, obsessional luuuuurve. But I get ahead of myself.<br />
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Here's how it started. Mojo is really into other dogs, and we're really into her (she's awesome, like all Dales). We kept talking about another puppy but never doing anything about it, until we saw an ad within reasonable distance. We went to have a look. Just a look. Let's gloss over the fact we stopped at the bank to get the entire amount required. And took the cat basket just in case.<br />
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Anyway, he's one of 10 pups brought up in a lovely home. We could have stayed there all day.<br />
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We chose the calmest, cuddliest boy. He was earmarked for someone else, but they weren't even going to come and see him. They lived in one of the poshest parts of central London and were going to sent the chauffeur down to collect him. Imagine! Wonder how long he would have lasted till he was returned to the breeder. <br />
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So back we came with a little brother for Mojo, just in time for her birthday.<br />
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She turned out to be the most exceptional mother-substitute (once she got over the shock). It's like she grew up overnight. And gained a few white hairs in the process. Here's Day 2 with Digger literally running rings around her.<br />
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What's really strange is that I have a picture of Mojo with Digger's dad. Here's Mojo at 5 months checking out Gunner's posterior.<br />
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Funny old world.<br />
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<br />Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-77756162712897351452012-02-02T12:45:00.009+00:002012-02-02T14:39:09.843+00:00ummm....<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Oh dear. I had a little nap. I was snoring a little.</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKd8ujhCQGO7_ovTNR2WDXhNZk6EvrT0NHoaKnn4qJFxk5MjDP3FFnDCAP6K8N2FOBvolYPJUMgTIAwCLlINjEF68A6BvGyJnooGjnFQ0y8BfjFbrXlaSZ0dvucWoQxes1X5T41XD_s2Qr/s1600/lh20120202-2.jpg"></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqiJI4eSOKsSK_nPM0_QjxowUbUSSZK3HrOPDzK9qS-04qzonqcxT-lqAtBu2DkxwxH8DHaVw538WeMkRqtpqnDKYI5byWxn0SsVVbf1n8ChLMTsQdXnavlwgygEj2ExIisUA8KS-wcoZj/s1600/lh20120202-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqiJI4eSOKsSK_nPM0_QjxowUbUSSZK3HrOPDzK9qS-04qzonqcxT-lqAtBu2DkxwxH8DHaVw538WeMkRqtpqnDKYI5byWxn0SsVVbf1n8ChLMTsQdXnavlwgygEj2ExIisUA8KS-wcoZj/s400/lh20120202-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704541891043468242" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />And the <span style="font-style: italic;">last time I blogged was April 2008!</span> Whaaat? Am I Rip Van Winkle or something?<br /><br />I'm sure everyone gave up on me a long time ago, so I'm probably talking to myself. But I've been meaning to get started again. Mum still reads many of the other dog blogs so I know a little of what's been going on - glad to see everyone is keeping their humans on their toes. There's been a lot of heartbreaking stories too. Only the other day we lost <a href="http://northfordmaggie.blogspot.com/">Maggie</a>, which made us very sad indeed. It made me realise that if people stopped blogging I'd never know how they were, and that would be awful.<br /><br />So in case you forgot what this gorgeous mug of mine looks like:<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKd8ujhCQGO7_ovTNR2WDXhNZk6EvrT0NHoaKnn4qJFxk5MjDP3FFnDCAP6K8N2FOBvolYPJUMgTIAwCLlINjEF68A6BvGyJnooGjnFQ0y8BfjFbrXlaSZ0dvucWoQxes1X5T41XD_s2Qr/s1600/lh20120202-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKd8ujhCQGO7_ovTNR2WDXhNZk6EvrT0NHoaKnn4qJFxk5MjDP3FFnDCAP6K8N2FOBvolYPJUMgTIAwCLlINjEF68A6BvGyJnooGjnFQ0y8BfjFbrXlaSZ0dvucWoQxes1X5T41XD_s2Qr/s400/lh20120202-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704544556878494418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />You can't imagine what's been happening round here these last few years. First they go all <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Physical_Impossibility_of_Death_in_the_Mind_of_Someone_Living">Damien Hirst</a> on me and stick me in a tank:</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uVG4JpO83C90bM1b2V4wkMFTuSuOI3C9rCzHH9Nhm5F6kO1AtetYsqasJnknbk_1eIGFMv9o84ujHdQnBtHw8DpGEFvTaKjqcPs7dasMAC42ikYZDbe1QuGKv_ZsXBDK5Id76mCLbv7k/s1600/lh20120202-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uVG4JpO83C90bM1b2V4wkMFTuSuOI3C9rCzHH9Nhm5F6kO1AtetYsqasJnknbk_1eIGFMv9o84ujHdQnBtHw8DpGEFvTaKjqcPs7dasMAC42ikYZDbe1QuGKv_ZsXBDK5Id76mCLbv7k/s400/lh20120202-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704545491727673938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Then they rescue this huge panther:<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAMr8x-Ty9nP3x4jWyMOnW3d1yjrhefbbi79JCZCbGBgwsbhhI4Vnh9jXHlxinc23gY9Vcm6-mmhYhvPNpW9O9rEbbMMmXtNyd5ZDErbifvWby4viVT_ZpzOjWlXE_BSOJEG2Rt7ermrG/s1600/lh20120202-4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAMr8x-Ty9nP3x4jWyMOnW3d1yjrhefbbi79JCZCbGBgwsbhhI4Vnh9jXHlxinc23gY9Vcm6-mmhYhvPNpW9O9rEbbMMmXtNyd5ZDErbifvWby4viVT_ZpzOjWlXE_BSOJEG2Rt7ermrG/s400/lh20120202-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704545780392379282" border="0" /></a><br />And if that wasn't enough, they got me this as a birthday present last year - I can guarantee it hasn't stayed this quiet or cute ever since:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSgbDr5I0ycBmS5pJmTYhZye5KAlrU3D7Hf2cTsO9h6QjGzX-6cjXfwFBApis7cism2HnmMbzpwub7O2CVrKRC5iruX7lE5gzKYAgOJHXzlr-HIUC3fotz_911dHZOq9kxkqBmScvYR3z/s1600/lh20120202-5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSgbDr5I0ycBmS5pJmTYhZye5KAlrU3D7Hf2cTsO9h6QjGzX-6cjXfwFBApis7cism2HnmMbzpwub7O2CVrKRC5iruX7lE5gzKYAgOJHXzlr-HIUC3fotz_911dHZOq9kxkqBmScvYR3z/s400/lh20120202-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704546031647441090" border="0" /></a><br />Right, off for another nap. Girl needs her beauty sleep, right?<br />This time I promise it won't be 4 years.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1DBlKX2A4iVX2ndQkGaR21DpmRO7Laj-2Ei9TFiRLhObJ7S4F2oyA-kCzMvFFns5mruS594cRUtOXO7AHlSxuGckbluq2oB3_RQlpgm5-IJfdCHvYjV62kPkLKJ6GzlyX4h7B3GXr-kN/s1600/lh20120202-6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1DBlKX2A4iVX2ndQkGaR21DpmRO7Laj-2Ei9TFiRLhObJ7S4F2oyA-kCzMvFFns5mruS594cRUtOXO7AHlSxuGckbluq2oB3_RQlpgm5-IJfdCHvYjV62kPkLKJ6GzlyX4h7B3GXr-kN/s400/lh20120202-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704547790623714642" border="0" /></a>Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-6636559772748828532008-04-26T18:04:00.010+01:002008-04-27T10:03:51.912+01:00Meet my nemesisI have a new enemy and he lives next door.<br /><br />I first spotted him when dad went round to the neighbours to discuss onions. He and Tim, our neighbour, wandered down the garden to his vegetable patch, and that's when I saw him.<br /><br />He was lurking under a tree, looking suspicious. I knew instantly that he was up to no good. So I rushed over and started barking at him for all I was worth. But it had no effect at all. He just sat there, all calm and serene, with that stony stare on his face.<br /><br />So I barked and barked some more, but he remains calm, impassive and serene. I don't like it. What do you think? He's got a nasty look about him, hasn't he?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnD-XZS4FJZ3FSnyMci2VeSmw0KlfDsElXNx0rUc_v0ErWz4t6abCFu_ec2tWyyFtzYg5X5xRlV7vsXyBzZxavUuHmgK60aNijldkK8wgMFkEj3HfEUVQY3J1S_xkr2UBG9AmhC8q0rtF/s1600-h/Buddha.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnD-XZS4FJZ3FSnyMci2VeSmw0KlfDsElXNx0rUc_v0ErWz4t6abCFu_ec2tWyyFtzYg5X5xRlV7vsXyBzZxavUuHmgK60aNijldkK8wgMFkEj3HfEUVQY3J1S_xkr2UBG9AmhC8q0rtF/s400/Buddha.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193845169415927138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's like he's some kind of anti-dale.<br /><br />The next day Tim opened the gate and I shot through and rushed over to check if he was still there. And he was sitting in the same place, the same calm, impassive expression. So I barked and barked - but nothing.<br /><br />I can sense he's there through the fence. I bark at him from our garden now and then just to let him know I'm keeping an eye on him.<br /><br />What do you think I should do?Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8223276146800835751.post-4656092745736760352008-04-26T13:52:00.003+01:002008-04-26T13:58:03.366+01:00Mum to Mojo - Part 4 from AiredelaideGet your best collar on, girl. I'm on my way home. <div><br /><div>I set off tomorrow (Adelaide time) and arrive on Monday morning (British time). Lucky me gets sent home in business class because I need to have my foot up, and apparently I'll have a little army of people to push me round different airports and push my bags too. I even get a special car to drive me from the airport to my front door. </div><div><br /></div><div>It almost makes up for the weeks I'll have to endure a plaster cast.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why does it always have to itch where I can't scratch?</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, treat me gently as I have to go straight to the local hospital with jetlag to get my cast replaced. </div><div><br /></div><div>After that... you and me get to party!</div><div><br /></div><div> see you soon, crazy pupster</div><div><br /></div><div>xxx</div><div>Mum</div></div>Mojo, Digger and familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14218238861281333072noreply@blogger.com6