Olympics day 8

So what Olympic sport suits a pack of four dogs? All kinds of running, of course.
Running one way:

running the other way:

and running all ways at once:

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:

 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.

Oops.

D is for dog.
D is for Digger.
D is for disqualified.

Olympics day 7

Now 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.

There are serious tackles:

some serious teeth:

 and some serious attempts to run over the photographer:

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?

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!

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.

Wish us luck!

big week

Mum is getting behind with posts again. I'm going to sack her soon for being totally incompetent.

Back on Sunday we went out with a whole load of Airedales - about twenty! - and their humans for a walk. But mummy is being too slow at sorting the photos so I can't post anything yet.

Meanwhile, it was Dad's birthday this week. So Mum made him a card featuring two of his favourite things, Liverpool FC and me. Of course me. I come first!



It isn't a Photoshop trick, I did really wear this scarf. But I refused the hat and then chewed them both.

And today I am six months old. We're going over to Rooster and Sol's house for a sleepover so I am going to have a great time.

I promise to catch up once all the festivities are over.

Sit

Saturday mornings are getting better and better. I've started going round to see my friends Rooster and Sol whose mum is running a puppy training session. More pup play = more good!

OK, so my level of concentration is poor at times and I just want to jump around like a nutter, but I'm only five months old and allowed to be an Airehead.

Though sometimes I'm impeccably well behaved. Here I am with Rooster and Sol doing a triple sit for their human boy, AJ.


I had a good wrestle with Jess the Jack Russell and left loads of blood all over her nice white coat. No, I didn't maul her - I'm just teething really badly at the moment and anything I chew gets covered.

What with my puppy class on Monday nights, I'm expected to sort my fuzzy brain out and start learning a thing or two. Darn. I thought it was just a puppy play party.

So how come our cats don't have to go to class, huh? Why don't they do tricks? I don't see them having to wait for the signal before they are allowed to eat their dinner. They get to walk over the table. They get to sit on the sofa. They get to sleep in the bedroom. And they don't do a SINGLE TRICK!

summertime

Yesterday we went over to Rooster and Sol's village and went for a walk downriver. They decided to teach me the rudiments of swimming although I still wouldn't go in further than belly depth. Rooster is not as fast as he used to be, but still swims a mean water-fetch. But mostly we all stood around in the water - dogs and people - and I did my best to get everyone's trousers wet.



I have to show you this picture of Sol running, even though it's blurry. He's amazing. He's so huge and so fast, and as he hurtles by his feet thunder on the ground. I've a bit of a crush on him, so whenever I'm on a walk and see lurchers in the distance I go crazy thinking it might be him. So far he kindly tolerates me but seems to find my beard-pulling antics childish and annoying. But a girl can dream....



My final act of the day was to be sick in the pub garden because I had eaten too much cow poo. Better out than in, as they say.

Rooster

Here's a few pics of me and my mate Rooster playing. Well, in truth, it isn't really playing. He just isn't in the mood for my style - which he calls "silly bl**dy puppy" - and growls at me every time I try to pull his ears. No fun. He tried to ignore me for days until I showed him my squeaky toys and discovered he is a helpless fool for them. Must be the squeak getting through his deafness.



He even breaks into a run to get them, which is hilarious on his unsteady legs. He walks like a drunk old man, each leg walking to a different rhythm and in a slightly random direction. Problem is, when motivated to run he is as quick as lightning, and once he has my squeaky ball he never ever gives it back.

You can't see in this pic but he is pulling a twitching snarl here. I'm learning to ignore everything he says.



As I mentioned before, he's staying while his family are on holiday. My parents have been borrowing him for years to play with. I expect he is surprised to find me here. Here's how he looked in his prime - the Eyebrow King.



And this is me as an 8-week old pup with their other dog, Sol. Sol is a huge, gentle lurcher whose beard I love to pull. All the time. And his ears. But especially his beard. Sol is staying with someone else but I think we'll have a puppy party when his parents get back from their trip.