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Derek

Beattie resumed training after Christmas and I must admit that I was a bit nervous the first week I took her as I had done very little with her for quite a few weeks.  The first week back, she was pretty unresponsive, which was not really surprising.  I thought she might be coming into season as she was so lethargic, but could have been the onset of her infection (see earlier post).

We were practising the 'Retrieve' in which the dog is supposed to retrieve an article, usually a dumbbell, bring it back and sit in a front present waiting for the owner to take the dumbbell from doggy's mouth!  Well, that's the theory, but nobody had told Beattie ( I tried but she refused to listen!).  She would retrieve the dumbbell and then drop it on the floor about three paces in front of me.  Frustration!

I had been trying this for several months without any progress being made.  AT suggested I build it up in stages by just getting her to hold the dumbbell and then let me take it from her.  The retrieve should be practised with me sitting in a chair, which I had not done before.  We practised this every day and by the end of the week she would bring it to me without dropping it.  Success!

The next stage was to get her to sit in front of me holding the dumbbell and finally to do this with me in the standing position.  There was one glorious morning when she achieved this for the first time.  I was so pleased I gave her a huge treat and then immediately stopped the training session.  AT says it is better for the dog to finish on a 'high' as there is the temptation to get the dog to repeat the exercise, but terriers get bored quickly, not liking repetitive drills.

Over the coming days she was able to demonstrate that this had not been a fluke and the crowning moment was when she performed a retrieve at dog training this week!

We seem to be making some progress at last!

Last week, Beattie seemed to be off-colour.  She was very lethargic, not wanting to walk, even taking herself into her crate, which is a very rare occurrence.  Then one evening I noticed she had diarrhoea and that she was bleeding from her bottom!  I thought that might be serious and rushed her down to the vet the next day.

A trip to the vet usually holds no terrors for Beattie and she walked in happily for her examination.  She was not so pleased when the vet stuck her finger in her bottom.  Beattie yelped!  The diagnosis was that she had an infection in her large intestine and that she would need an antibiotics injection, another injection which was the doggy equivalent of an Alka Selzer, a course of pro-biotic medicine (like that yogurt you can buy which encourages healthy bacteria in the stomach) and a diet of chicken and rice for three days.

Well, I was relieved that it was not more serious than that, especially as we were taking ourselves away for a weekend in the Lake District!  I was a bit worried about the chicken and rice diet in a Travelodge, but I cooked some up the day before and kept it in a cool box in the car overnight so she did not suffer a bout of food poisoning as well as everything else!

Our visit to the vet was on Thursday and by Saturday afternoon, Beattie was bounding up the fells in the company of four other assorted canines and being a complete pain in the a**e!

Obviously, she had recovered!

Today is Christmas Day.  Beattie was woken up early at 6.30 as I had to take her out for a walk before starting to cook our Christmas lunch.  The bird had to be in the oven by 7.15 as it would take the best part of six hours to cook.  Our turkey was a very large 8kg bird as we were having company today, our good friends J & K with god-daughter K.

It was a swift walk for the 'necessaries' only as it was still pitch black outside and threatening to rain, which it did quite shortly after my return.  I did not want to get involved with anything until the turkey was safely in the oven.  It was a free-range bird from our local butcher.  I had been given cooking instructions by the butcher, but these were different from the normal way I cook poultry so I stuck to the tried and tested 20 minutes per half-kilo and 20 minutes extra.  It usually works for me!

Once the oven door was closed I could relax for a while and watch Beattie open her presents, two different doggy toys, a snowman and a reindeer.  The snowman did not last very long in her jaws as the head and body were connected by green rope, which she had soon separated and that was the end of the snowman.  As the reindeer was made of plastic it survived the whole day!  She was also given a bag of large doggy treats meant to aid teeth cleaning!  She was well through the first one when I read the packet which stated that these treats were meant for full-size adult large dogs!  Beattie was having no trouble at all in munching her way through the entire bone!

At least this meant that she was not very hungry for the rest of the day.  I saved her some turkey breast and vegetables to add to her dried food and she enjoyed her turkey dinner in the evening!  After this, all she had the energy for was to lay on the sofa next to the recumbent body of A and doze for the rest of the day!  Lucky dog!

I let Beattie chew away at her bone for nearly an hour.  By this time there was very little meat left and she was even cracking into the bone.  I decided that enough was enough for one day and I took it away without too much protest this time.

Meanwhile I was busy cooking dinner for A and her sister JT, who had flown up from Exeter for the week.  They arrived just about the time I took Beattie's bone away so she had lots to occupy her for quite a while...

Dinner was served.  We had just sat down when Beattie, very suddenly and very quietly vomited!  A huge pile of undigested lamb lay on the floor in front of her!  Great!  I hadn't even taken my first mouthful!  I grabbed some kitchen towel to clear up the mess when, bingo! a repeat performance in another part of the room!  Poor thing!  How could one little dog be so sick?  Just how much had she eaten?  Was it just the lamb or was breakfast there as well?  I grabbed another handful of kitchen towel and cleared up a second mess!

I remembered then that she had been off colour the last time she had lamb.  On that occasion she had widdled in her crate! (quite unlike her).  That was it!  No more lamb!  I telephoned AT to tell her what had happened. 

'Never mind', she said, 'Try her with a beef bone next week!'

Beattie seemed quite unperturbed by her experience, as if bringing up the entire contents of her stomach was a normal occurence!  Half an hour later she was clamouring for her 'dental stick' as if nothing had happened!

I had heard of the phrase, 'sick as a dog', but I had never seen it in action before that day!

Last week, AT came to dinner.  During the course of the evening she suggested that I buy Beattie a lamb chop from the butcher, for her to gnaw.  Consequently, when I next visited the butcher I asked him for a lamb chop with a nice bone and plenty of meat.  He did not have a chop, but suddenly he disappeared into the back of the shop and reappeared a minute later with a lamb's foot for her!  It was exactly what I had asked for - a meaty bone!

I took the lamb's foot home and decided to give it to Beattie in the evening instead of her usual tea.  I decided she was going to have the bone in her crate so as not to make too much mess.  When I gave it to her she looked a bit uncertain and sniffed at it for a few minutes before trying to 'bury' it in the bottom of her crate.  This meant trying to conceal it below her vetbed.

After a while when nothing had happened, I decided to take her bone away and try again the next day.  Perhaps she was not hungry.  I opened her crate door and bent down to retrieve the bone.  But Beattie had other ideas!  She was not going to allow me to take back her prized posession and growled quite menacingly in a way she had never done before!

Wisely, I thought, I retreated and considered what to do.  I decided to call AT for advice as Beattie had never reacted like this before.  When I described her behaviour, AT was quite unphased and told me that she was just behaving like a dog, guarding her food and warning me off. 

'The trouble is', she said, 'You have already backed off and that is not what the Alpha dog would do.  You will have to take that bone away and risk getting bitten', she concluded.  'My advice is to put on a garden glove and grab the bone quickly whilst the other hand hooks her collar.  You may not get bitten that way!'

I was not brimming with confidence at this suggestion, but said I would give it a go.  I rang off and went to the shed to find my gloves - not easy in the dark!  With the glove on my right hand, I summoned up my courage, took a deep breath and opened the cage door.  Beattie was instantly alert to what was happeneing and went to grab the bone.  But I was determined to win and grabbed it from her before she knew what had happened.  With the bone safely retrieved, I held on to it for a short time before returning it to her. 

This is what AT said I should do.  She said that the message to the dog would be that it was my bone but I was letting her eat it until I decided otherwise!

Triumphant, I phoned AT and when she answered I said, 'Piece of cake!'  'Well done, she replied.  'You have done the right thing now.'

I told AT that Beattie had now decided to tuck into the bone and that all seemed well now.  Little did I know what was to follow ...

Letting Beattie off the lead on a walk is becoming more of a game of 'cat and mouse' nowadays.  The problem is not that she runs off - she usually stays quite close, unless she finds something dead to roll about in, and then she will not come if I call.  I usually have to walk back and shoo her away.

No, the fun begins when I try to put her back on the lead.  She very quickly senses that I am trying to catch her and she will lay down as if she is submitting to the inevitable, but you can see that she is poised, muscles as taut as a clock spring, ready to fly as soon as I go near her!  I know it's going to happen and as soon as I put out my hand to catch her collar, she is off, up and running and barking excitedly!

The first time this happened, I found a stick which I would not give her until she would let me put on her lead.  That trick worked twice, but she had now got wise to that particular gambit and the third time she was not playing ball.  The stick was not a powerful enough reason to allow herself to be caught.  In desperation, I shouted at her, 'Do you want to see mummy?'

Poor A hates being called 'mummy' but Beattie knows the word and immediately she looked interested and I had her on the lead very quickly.

Yesterday, I was having the same problem but I tried a different tack.  I had 'treats' with me, but even a biscuit, which she loves, was not inducement enough to be captured straight away!  We had to go through the little charade where she would try to snatch the biscuit away from me and I held on tight with my other hand hoping to catch her by the collar.

Eventually, she gave in, but I had the feeling that it was her deciding to be caught and not being lured or tricked into it!  It's as if she was saying, All right, I've had my little game, now we can go home!'

In this game of 'cat and mouse', it seems to me that the roles are reversed!

Beattie was very badly behaved today.  It happened at lunchtime.  I made A her lunch as she is still off work because of her tooth trouble.  All she wanted to eat was some bread and Marmite as it is easy to chew!  I carried the plate of bread and Marmite through to the lounge and set it down on the arm of the chair and called A through from the conservatory. 

My eyes had only left the plate for a few moments, but it was enough time for the dog!  When I turned back and looked at her her nose was uncomfortably close to the plate!

'Get away from there!' I ordered.  She turned to face me, rather startled at my tone of voice.  When I looked at her all I noticed was the half slice of bread protruding, guiltily from her chops!  In another second, the bread had disappeared completely, with no chewing! 

'Beattie!' I yelled, even louder.  A had just come through the door, and, sizing up the situation, grabbed Beattie before she could escape and dumped her in her crate for a 'time out'!

Naughty girl!  She was literally in the dog house today!

We were back from the Lakes this week.  Unfortunately, we had to cut the trip short as A was having trouble with a tooth which had to be extracted, so Beattie and I came home early.

We had five good days walking and climbed another twelve fells.  Beattie has climbed 69 fells this year - her first fellwalking season.  This is just about one third of the fells known as 'Wainwrights' after the 214 fells described by Alfred Wainwright in his seven Pictorial Guides.  I have now climbed 175 of these fells, 41 this year. 

The highlight of the week was our walk to the summit of Low Fell in the western Lakes.  For the most part, the ascent was along a grassy track which led gently up to the summit.  When we arrived at the top we were rewarded by superlative views of Crummock Water and the surrounding fells.  My photo does not really do justice to that wonderful view. 

On another day, I had planned a walk to climb four fells, one being Base Brown, which was a single fell in a group that I had not yet climbed.  To make a day of it I planned a circular walk to take in three other fells that Beattie had not climbed.  We started off in sunshine although I could see that there was cloud on the highest tops, but not those that we would be climbing.  However, as can happen, the cloud dropped down as we ascended to the first top on the round.  By the time we stood by the cairn on Grey Knotts, grey was a good description of our surroundings!  We battled on to the summit of Brandreth, the mist getting thicker and conditions more unfriendly by the minute.  When the summit cairn appeared out of the gloom, I decided to retreat and tackle Base Brown another day!  We retraced our steps and descended to Honister Pass.  We had dropped down out of the cloud by this time and it being past lunch time, I found a suitable rock to sit and munch my ham and pickle sandwiches, helped as always by Beattie, who is always up for the ham filling even laced with sweet pickle.  She is not fussy!

Considering the lateness of the year, we had some lovely autumn weather on the other days, often misty, but with enough warm sun to burn off the cloud by mid-morning.  The conditions were just about perfect for walking and we made the most of our five days there.

With another 39 fells to climb in my own 214 Challenge, I am hopeful that I might finish the task by the end of next year.  By then, Beattie should be well on course for completing her own challenge!

On our walk today, Beattie and I passed a horse chestnut tree still in full leaf.  Nothing unusual in that, you might think, but this tree was still full of very ripe conkers just about bursting from their green, spiky cases.

In past years, it would be very lucky if any horse chestnut tree was still hanging on to its fruit at this time of year.  Nature's harvest is the prize waiting for myriad small boys brave enough to shin up into the topmost boughs to recover the coveted treasure. 

How many times does one see a small group of hopefuls standing under a horse chestnut waiting for conkers to fall when various missiles are thrown up into the canopy?  More often than not, gravity brings the projectile down on to the heads of the watchers below!

Why is this time-honoured custom not being enthusiastically re-enacted this autumn?  Simply because the game of conkers has been banned in most British schools on health and safety grounds!  We cannot have the poor children putting themselves in mortal danger from the flying remains of a defeated party!

What's happened to our society when children cannot amuse themselves with the innocent pursuits of childhood?  How many generations of youngsters have played and survived this dangerous sport?  Wrap 'em up in cotton wool and allow no risk-taking.  No child must be out of sight for longer than the blink of an eye of its over-weaning parent!

My heart sinks when I hear of the suffocating, over-protective lives of the children of this country.  They are like dogs on short leads. Never allowed to run free.  What sort of childhood is that? 

Conkers should not still be on the trees!