Every Sunday morning, I make the short trip to L’Horte to visit Pop. I thank the Gods that the drive only takes 5 minutes as Arry barks in my ear the whole way. Very loudly. On arrival he, Gunner, Alice and Yogi throw themselves out of the car and leap merrily through the overgrowth to get to the river even though Arry is the only one that swims. It’s the equivalent of taking sugar-dosed kids to Disneyland. I can go to my car any other day and not be rugby-tackled but on a Sunday – they know and so does most of the village. Terriers and Shepherds are not a good mix if you are trying to get out of town quietly.
The pack have a sixth sense about certain things; the trip to L’Horte being only one of them. I could waffle on in expert terms about learned behaviours and operant conditioning yah dee yah but some actions just can’t be explained so easily. Evee’s seizures for example. Unfortunately these are becoming more frequent and another visit to the vet is on the cards. When these fits first started, I could pretty much gauge when they were going to happen; once a month at the Full Moon but now they have become random episodes which of course, cannot be predicted. At least not by me. Some of the woofers however, seem to have a nose for such scares, namely Coco Loco, Arry and Alice. Whilst the others appear oblivious, Coco will start barking and Alice will get as close as possible to Evee as though protecting her even after the episode is over. Arry’s attempts at emergency nursing mostly involve a lot of licking which could be seen as counter-productive as his tongue is about the same size as the poor old gal. These four-legged EMT’s I’m sure, have saved her popcorn more than once.
As work in the main house is still ongoing and we appear to have mislaid our electrician (probably buried in a wall somewhere with the wiring), Mumo and her woofs are still with us. Whilst I am no stranger to having fur covered tiles, the canine catering might have presented a few problems. Mine know exactly what time they are to be served, Simi in particular but Gunner and Sappy are used to being fed an hour later. Not anymore if they have any chance to finish their meals without Alice and Evee helping out and turning Sappy into a nervous wreck in the process. They say dogs can’t tell the time, well mine can.
Arry bought a friend home again last night. Mumo and I had just retired to our chambres with various hairy companions after a bit of a binge on “The Crown” when I heard Mo growling. Since Mo is usually a deep sleeper, I listened out for any unwanted doorknob twisting but nothing. This was until Arry jumped on my bed and started scratching his nose furiously causing me to turn the light on and see what kind of stupidity on his part had caused such agitation. There in my bedroom doorway was a hedgehog. Again. And not even a shy little woodland soul, nope there it was happily checking out it’s possible new digs. There is no doubt that Arry had got the creature upstairs, sore nose aside but it was me who had to throw a bathroom mat over it and gently release the poor hedgehog back into it’s natural environment, the garden. I would say that such visitations can never be predicted but then, I know Arry……
“A dog starved at his master’s gate, Predicts the ruin of the state” (William Blake)
Widow plus woofs 