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Coco's occasional blog
or the world according to Coco.
Sunday 5th September 2010
I have been prodded in the nicest possible way by Cousin Georgie into keeping all 4 of you abreast of my latest adventures (see Saluki of letters). I apologise for the delay. I have been busy training 2p, helping with the garden reorganisation, advising on the decorating and trying, without any success, to find my missing feathers. I think 2p has swallowed them all.
The school holidays started well enough with a trip to the Yorkshire Dales, my favourite part of the world. It was 2p's first visit to the area and she took to the rivers, becks, gills etc like a duck to water. I retained my dignity and refused to get my feet wet. At least in the Dales she wasn't allowed off the lead and I got some peace from her practising her bring downs. She's got these off to a fine art now and I dread our visits to the field where she has perfected her technique.
    
So, there I was in the Dales hoping for a bit of rest and relaxation, a few trips to my favourite pub -The Bridge at Grinton where they are great with salukis and other dogs, an expedition to the Blue Lion who also know a thing or two about making a saluki feel at home, some undemanding walks along the river, a chance to check out the sheep in Arkengarthdale and do some browsing around Richmond, Northallerton and Reeth, not to mention some cosy nights in by the log fire. And what did I get? Well, all of the above but with some over the top route marches thrown in, uphill and down dale over and over again.
They saved the worst for the last day when we went for a walk up Gunnerside Gill. The last time they did this walk, which was new to me, was with Pip and Becca and it was where Pip discovered a route across the Gill and made a short lived break for freedom. Without his help this time they missed the route back and we all ended up having to walk up past the falls to the bridge at the top of the Gill. The little leisurely trip down memory lane turned into a cold, steep and hungry trek. After several hours of walking we got back in sight of Gunnerside on the other side of the Gill from where we had started. All should have been well.
Alas there was a herd of cows and their calves in the common field, complete with public footpath, right next to the village. As it was a steepish climb down the hill the Big Toy had me and 2p on the leads and the Old Girl marched ahead leading the way. She's a bit feeble about being pulled over on downward slopes ever since she broke her wrist (walking Rosa) and last year sprained her ankle on similar terrain with Pip and me. 2p and I walked as discreetly and quietly as we knew how but they had seen us and the belligerent boss cow started bellowing to the others, and within seconds the Big Toy, 2p and I were surrounded by mother cows and their calves, with all of them calling to each other to come and join in the fun. If I could fully understand cow speak I'd say there were shouts of 'Fight, fight, come on you bovines!' I was not impressed when the Old Girl, naturally wearing her red coat, escaped through the stile and left us to it. The big noisiest boss cow who had started all the trouble butted the Big Toy and knocked his glasses off, and he was even more encumbered by my strenuous efforts to jump into his arms out of the way of all those hooves. I don't know what 2p was doing but in circumstances like these, as the Old Girl had clearly demonstrated, it's everyone for themselves.
The Big Toy got us under the shelter of some small trees and we were stuck. Cows from all over the Dales were coming to support the action. The Old Girl kept bleating at us to go back up the hill but we were totally confined. I'm surprised we could hear her as the noise all these beasts were making was deafening. I fully expected that at any moment people would be rushing out of the village houses, barely 40 yards away from where we were hiding, to at least check out what all the fuss was about and possibly to issue Noise Abatement Orders.
Eventually the Big Toy begged the Old Girl to try to get help. She inevitably went into the nearest (and only) village pub with which she was reasonably familiar from previous visits. Eschewing her natural inclination to order a large G&T, she went straight to the bar and asked the barman if he knew whose cows they were. He tried to be helpful but didn't know as it's common land and the herds move about regularly. She explained that her husband was surrounded by cattle, just mothers and calves, no bulls. And an idiot sitting at the bar with his back to her said 'Well he shouldn't have gone into a field with cows and calves in then, should he!' She turned on her heel, said thank you so much for your help. The barman suggested she try the Blacksmith's forge, could be his cows, so she walked back to the smithy which was next to the field, banged on the door and although there were lights on upstairs nobody bothered to answer the door. Perhaps they couldn't hear her knocking over the crescendo coming from the cows just yards away.
By this time she was in a bit of a temper, so even though she knew a vet and her dog had been killed by a herd of cattle in Yorkshire last year, she stormed back through the stile gate, waved her frightful red hat at the cows and shouted at them in no uncertain terms to move away. They had obviously heard about what happens when her bit of a temper becomes a full scale rage, and most of them scuttled away like frightened sheep. The Big Toy retrieved his glasses from the ground and his rucksack and moved with us towards the stile. The Old Girl got there first and had it open in time to let the Big Toy, 2p and me through just before boss cow and a few of her hangers on reached us wanting Round 2. I didn't half give her a mouthful when I was on the safe side of the stile gate. I think she had it coming, so I do not regret my bad language at all. I had been as quiet as a mouse for over half an hour penned in by her and her cohorts.
The Old Girl loudly ranted the whole 20 yards from the stile to the car that she would never grace Gunnerside or the Kings Head with her presence again, that they had lost her business forever. It was just a shame that later the same day the Big Toy took it upon himself to drive back to the Kings Head to ask if her pretty blue saluki purse (which had gone missing sometime during the day) had been handed in there. Other than that they aren't ever going back to Gunnerside.
On their return to Derbyshire the blue purse, after extensive searching, turned up in the blue bag, masquerading as part of the base. On the positive side, if the blue purse hadn't hidden itself so successfully, the Big Toy would not have had the unexpected pleasure of bumping into Mike in Reeth in one of its many hostelries as he trawled round trying to ascertain if anybody had handed in said purse. They hadn't obviously.
The Big Toy, 2p and I are under there somewhere!
To restore my self esteem after the above episode, and to quell the rumours emanating from one quarter of my readers that this is not all my own work please find photos below of me hard at work on the laptop and/or reading Zola's funnies and other correspondence. When these photos were taken 2p had not yet completed her work on my ears and tail and I still looked vaguely saluki like.
  
Thursday 10th June 2010
I have been helping the Old Girl to polish trophies today, only one of them was mine. I've given it up as a bad job because she said my licking was just making them smeary, not clean, and I didn't really like the taste of silver polish. So I've returned to my regular task of keeping Tuppence off my favourite chair. Of course my favourite is always the one she wants to be on with the result that we've managed to get muddy paw prints on each and every item of furniture. The weather has been foul for the past few days since they dug up most of the flower beds and every time I set foot outside it somehow gets caked in mud. I don't get as dirty as Tuppence who is much closer to the ground than me. She thinks they cleared the beds so she'd be able to have a really good mudbath whenever she chooses and to make digging them up easier for her. She doesn't like to appear ungrateful so she obliges them by digging and rolling at every available opportunity.
My Cousin Jabari who is truly a saluki of letters now with JW, ShCM and CC after his name is under the mistaken impression that because Tuppence is a girl she must be feminine and dainty. Wait till he meets her and he'll soon find out she's really a tomboy sent here by the England Rugby team for undercover practice. I'm the mutt she practises her flying tackles on. She launches herself at me with all four feet aimed at delicate parts of my anatomy, and I'm sure it must be Pip's ghost telling her to bite and pull my ears - just to get his own back on how grievously I mutilated his ears. It's me that ends up crying 'enough' in our play fights. She only stops to fall asleep or to plan her next assault.
Tuppence has some very strange habits. She'll play outside for ages and then goes into the house for a pee. Even at my most excitable I never actually pee'd inside on purpose (except to punish the old girl for making me wear the halti). Mostly she does it on the wooden floor rather than the Chinese carpet. The Old Girl is grateful for this as it is the only thing she owns that she claims is an heirloom. I think if it's that precious to her she's mad to leave it lying about on the floor for all and sundry to walk mud on to, and for bored salukis to chew bits off. Imagine how careless she'd be with something she didn't think was special. Tuppence is a chip off the old block (Pip) in many ways. She loves to bite plants and bring twigs into the house to gnaw on, also stones, pots, tiles and quite disturbingly snails. The BT and OG keep having fits about this and have already made an appointment with the vet to discuss the dangers of lungworm. Tuppence won't be told and just carries on regardless with her mission to divest the garden of these loathsome creatures.
I feel quite old when I see 2p hurtle around the garden, she doesn't so much run as fly and leap. She chases me! After a bit of this though I just stand still and let her keep running in circles around me until she gets distracted by the need to dig or chew or roll (or go inside for a pee). She hates birds and tries to chase them out of the garden. I don't like the pigeons and have always done my best to see them off, but 2p doesn't even like robins and blackbirds. Seems reasonable to me so now we share in the task of telling them to get lost. I still haven't heard her bark but she's a very accomplished moaner, saving her best for when she's in her pretty blue crate (belonging to Elaine and Neil, her joint owners) and everybody else has gone to bed. She wakes everybody up including me. I'm now in Pip's big green crate at night with plenty of room for a big boy to make himself comfortable. Guess who wants to share it with me. I'm not for sharing yet, I'd never get a moment's peace. My ears would be but a shadow of their former selves and she likes to stretch out. See picture below of us on my favourite settee.
This photo shows how I prefer to enjoy this settee:
I don't know where 2p was when I got this rare opportunity to have a nap alone, perhaps she'd gone to her first ringcraft class. The Big Toy said she behaved beautifully, let the judge look at her teeth (he was taking a chance - they are very sharp), go over her and she trotted around the ring quite nicely. This obviously means she'll be a nightmare when it comes to the real thing. Neil has been warned.
You'd think a little scrap like 2p would be in awe of a big bruiser like me - I'm still a heavyweight - but she isn't frit at all. She's quite a madam and holds her own in encounters with toys. Pip always graciously gave in to me and let me have any toy in question, but 2p likes to hang on until I give up.
Guess who won this battle:
The vet has finally decided what was the matter with me. It would seem I had a nasty kidney infection which produced the poly-arthritis like symptoms. He came to this conclusion after I finally had a clear urine sample. Not being a medical dog I wondered if this was due to it being the only sample not to be extracted via a catheter. When the vet wanted yet another sample the Old Girl and Big Toy took me outside with a bottle, a funnel thing and a rubber glove, told me to pee so I did, and we went back to the vet's room with a brimming bottle. He was quite impressed that I pee'd on command. It is supposed to be a good news that it was a kidney problem as I shouldn't have any more problems with my joints. But the long period on steroids has left my immune system depleted and I am at risk of further infections. And I've still got all the weight to lose. All this on top of losing my lovely Pip has left me quite depressed. To counteract this I am now on Bach flower essences recommended by Helen Graham, and a crash course in being 'big brother' to the bouncy new bitch in my life Tuppence. I suppose it's a good thing I haven't got my erstwhile energy or the OG and BT wouldn't know what had hit them as 2p and I tornado through the house and environs.
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Saturday 15th May 2010
Yesterday I was 18 months old and I am now no longer a Junior. Yippee. To celebrate my half year birthday the Old Girl and Big Toy took me out for a very long car journey. I was a bit miffed because I had to travel in the boot. Since Pip's sad demise I have normally travelled on the back seat with the Old Girl so that she can distract me from fussing about other dogs who dare to be in the vicinity of my car on our travels. She makes me focus on her by tempting me with tiny treats. The exception to this is when I am wet and dirty and I get relegated to the boot and they put up with my barking. But yesterday morning I was not wet or dirty so I didn't understand why I was in the boot.
We were in the car for ages. I knew we weren't going to a show because we didn't get up at the crack of dawn and I hadn't had a shower. And then they left me in the car while they disappeared inside a house I didn't know. I was not best pleased. But then they came out carrying the best present a boy could want - a Pip coloured little bitch puppy! Not only does she look like Pip but she's related to him, his second cousin. Her mum is Pip's actual cousin. She sat on the Old Girl's knee on the back seat and I tried to inspect her through the grille from the boot. Happily they soon found a pub to stop at with a garden and I was allowed to get up front and personal with her. Her name is Tuppence - the Son is appalled - and she didn't mind me drooling over her so much she needed towel drying before she could get back in the car. She didn't say a word but I could tell she liked me too. She's very quiet and very well behaved. Puts me to shame but I'll learn to live with that. It took us over 5 hours to get home, and they've given her my crate (actually it was Pip's) to live in.
I don't mind, I am in love. She still hasn't said anything and she still hasn't put a paw wrong, no car sickness, no accidents in the house, slept all night without a murmur. She's just climbed up on to the settee for the first time so I think she is going to make herself at home quite quickly. She's very pretty and smells divinely of puppy urine. And she hasn't tried to eat my food or disturbed me when I'm having a well earned and prednisolone induced rest. She has made no derogatory remarks about my weight or lack of waist, even though she's very slim and has a tuck up to die for. I think the good days might be back. Pip of course will be spinning in his grave, outraged that they never got him such a lovely present and they knew he'd always wanted a little saluki bitch to play with. I don't think he ever thought of me as a special gift.
  
The Old Girl has already taken 83 photos of Tuppence. I'm on a few of them, and most are rubbish, but when she was loading them on to the computer last night the Big Toy thought she was looking at old photos of Pip as a puppy until she pointed out that Tuppence has a few bits missing that Pip was very proud of.
Other news from the last 3 months: A week after Pip died (26/2/10) I learned how to catch treats, balls, toys. Still haven't mastered catching the frisbee. Two weeks after Pip died I did astoundingly well at Crufts, coming 1st in Junior Dog and Good Citizens Dog, and 3rd in Yearling. 5 days later I went a tiny bit lame, went to the vets for my boosters, was given a nasty antibiotics jab and painkiller jab instead because I had a slightly raised temperature, and 2 days later I was completely off my legs and had a raging temperature of 40 degrees C. I was very, very poorly and I'm still not completely right despite being on a high dose of steroids (prednisolone) ever since. My temperature came down almost immediately after the 1st prednisolone injection, and my weight has risen spectacularly. I now weigh in at 28Kg and almost none of it is muscle so I have a long way to go before I can be called svelte again.
I have started to feel like playing again in the last couple of weeks and am enjoying chasing a ball and bringing it back sometimes. Mostly though I prefer to be running to catch something edible. The rabbits in the field have had a lazy time while I've been unwell, and have taken to not disappearing whenever I appear, but sitting about sneering at me saying 'hey, fatty, you won't catch me. Call yourself a sighthound, you haven't even noticed we are here!'. Actually I have seen them but if I pretend not to see them I feel under less pressure to put them through a workout. Anyway I'd never catch them, as they cheat and run under the railway fence and into the nettles which I don't like. No, I like to be sure of a reward these days for any exertion so I will run between the OG and BT to have a treat tossed to me. I don't think this is helping me get thinner.
I have developed a liking for toothbrush heads. Admittedly it is an acquired taste and they do take some digesting. They never did find the one I actually bit off and swallowed. The Old Girl went out and bought some more toothbrushes since I was so keen and we have great fun as I try to bite it off and she tries to brush my teeth.
I didn't get my Junior Warrant even though I earned 27 JW points. As these were all at Champ shows I don't qualify as 3 needed to be from Open Shows, and the only Open shows I've done any good at have been the ones where other salukis didn't turn up! Don't know if there's a connection. I was the top winning Dog in 2009 for the Northern Saluki Club points trophy, with 80 points. This was because the NSC is much more generous than the KC and lets you have the points for turning up even when nobody else does. And I did turn up a lot last year. Pip was runner up adult dog with 54 points, but he earned every single one of those points because he was always up against competition. I am very proud to have been his mate and tormentor and miss him like crazy. I just hope his second cousin is as much fun to live with. I think she might be!
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Thursday 11th February
Last night against all the odds and in the most unfavourable of circumstances I passed my KC Silver Good Citizens.
This was probably because I had to wear the horrible halti, and to be honest, I'm so sad about what is happening to my lovely mate Pip, that I haven't got the heart to be trouble.
They are saying now that it is leukaemia and that things don't look good. Too upset to write anymore.
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Friday 5th February 2010
The smell of microwaved liver is pervading the house again, which is mitigated only by the even stronger smell of roast chicken. I wouldn't mind but it's not for me, well I might get the odd morsel, but most of it is for Pip who has been very poorly and losing weight and still not playing with me or even going for a run. All he does is lie about the place, moving from one chair to the next as the mood takes him, giving me a really hard time when I get back home if the Big Toy takes me out for the day - almost won't let me back in the house with his growling.
It isn't my fault that he's not up to going to shows or agility classes and has to stay at home with the Old Girl. And you won't believe what she's been making him wear. I'd be growling if I was him, but of course he's much too polite to complain to the people in charge, so he just mutters at me.
I think the reason they have been making Pip wear trousers is because the vet (vet number 4 to be accurate) wanted to cut off his testicles, and the Big Toy and Old Girl believe that if they cover them up, the vet won't be able to get at them. Very strange things have been happening to poor Pip's testicles.
First they swelled up to the size and colour of a cricket ball which led to an emergency visit to the aforementioned vet number 4 who wanted to chop them off. By the time he'd got back from that visit to the vets his ear leathers had developed lumps all over the edges of them, a bit like the one he had on his neck in the autumn. Of course with this threat to his nether regions hanging over him Pip went into a massive depression and spent as much time as he could guarding and licking his bits. They tried collars and tee shirts to stop him being able to reach them, but he's a very supple saluki and outwitted their every effort until they came up with the trousers. If I didn't feel so sorry for him I'd post a photo. Maybe when he's better.
Vet number 5 (the boss) demanded to see him the same evening and gave him a reprieve on the castration front, said he'd injured himself running through nettles or something and having scratched himself had exacerbated the trauma by keeping licking himself. She gave him some ointment which made him cry and jump over the furniture if anybody went near his very sore testicles with it. Human beings with perfectly good skin had to wear disposable gloves to apply this stuff, and they wanted to put it on his cracked and tender bits! To Pip's great relief his Breeder, the divine Elaine, suggested sudacreme instead and Pip now has the softest most pliable pretty mottled pink and grey balls in salukidom.
Not that any of us are taking them for granted. The Old Girl sleeps downstairs with Pip and me to make sure he doesn't lick himself in the wee small hours. I like to tease them both by having a noisy slurp or two of my own bits, which I have learned to value highly. She sits up in the dark, tells Pip to stop it, and he's not only innocent but knows exactly what I'm doing and how much I enjoy it!
The Old Girl feels very responsible for the disaster Pip has experienced recently. She has not been taken in by the 'nettles' theory as Pip not only always has run through nettles, he actively seeks them out on walks as he is most fond of them for toileting, which makes clearing up after him a hazardous task for them. After the Big Toy and I returned from the Manchester Show where we'd learned about a saluki having a catastrophic reaction to sniffing a plug in air freshener thing, the Old Girl realised what she'd done differently on the day before Pip's problem revealed itself.
In a moment of drunken New Year bonhomie she had invited Sue and Mike to come for an evening. In the cold sober light of the following week she'd realised she'd have to clean, so on the Thursday of their visit she tried to do an entire year's cleaning in one day. She failed. I could have told her it was impossible, especially as I had added a few obstacles earlier in the week (like digging and munching a 10cm hole in the carpet just in front of the fireplace). In order to make the place smell less like home she had decided to 'febreze' the settees and chairs as well as washing the covers, but she hadn't had time to go shopping for the branded stuff, and had thought it fortuitous as she walked through the Vic Centre on her way home from work that there was a whole display of its £ equivalent in the Poundshop.
This she subsequently liberally sprayed on the above mentioned furniture having turfed Pip and I off. She later recalled that Pip got back on the settee while it was still damp. Another thing she'd done differently was dust the lampshade in the dining room. This action took the light so completely by surprise that it stopped working and by 4 pm she was working by candlelight. The Big Toy on his return from work thought this was by design to hide all the cleaning that hadn't been done and made no comment. This in itself was very strange as he normally comments on or questions everything. Pip and I kept out of the way as much as possible while the clean up was going on and had a brief walk with the BigToy in anticipation of Sue and Mike's arrival with their massive Irish Wolfhound.
Pip was unexpectedly unwelcoming of Finn, by whose advances in the past he's been bemused but not offended. They put it down to Pip wanting to protect me. These people know nothing. I think, and so do they belatedly, that Pip was suffering already with an allergic reaction to the fabric freshener used earlier in the day, and that he did not want anybody, no matter how attractive, going anywhere near his backend. Of course the Old Girl and Big Toy had not paid any attention to Pip's rearend that evening and it was not until the following morning in daylight that she thought she'd seen an unexpected pinkish glow from that area as he stepped up on to the settee. 25 minutes later vet number 4 was keen to get his knife out, and the sad saga of Pip's balls commenced.
The Old Girl sent out an SOS to Salukiphiles and from across the land came back messages of concern, advice and support. Petitions have been launched to preserve Pip's balls, there may even have been a Facebook campaign, and I believe Pip's testicles have since been listed as endangered species with all the rights to protection such listing implies. Personally I think the hate mail to the vet was going too far. The Old Girl has naturally decided that this sorry episode excuses her from ever spring cleaning again.
Now all we've got to do is get to the bottom of what is making Pip so tired and thin. Vet number 5 keeps saying his red blood cell count is low, gives (obviously I mean sells) him medicine to help him make more red blood cells, and then takes more blood off him to send across the country for tests, thereby depleting his bloodstock.
I haven't met the vets yet - wisely I stay outside in the car and bark at every passing cat and dog en route to them. The OG & BT thought that if I wore the horrible halti in the car it would stop me barking, but it doesn't. It does however make me behave at KC Good Citizens classes and I am now due to take my silver test for the third time next Wednesday. I failed on the last 2 occasions because I would not wait for 2 whole minutes without moving. The BigToy made me wear the horrible halti at the class last Wednesday and I didn't put a foot wrong. He was very pleased to learn that I can wear the halti for the Test.
Happily for me I don't think they let salukis wear haltis in the showring yet so I can still have fun in there, like I did at Manchester. Witnesses have agreed that it was the lovely Mark Cocozza's fault that I thought it was playtime for Juniors when he tickled me under the chin. And then he described me as 'very naughty'. Cheek.
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Sunday 10th January 2010
I am bored so I have decided to add some photos to illustrate my blog. I am bored because although we have been to the fields every day, Pip has resolutely refused to play with me, even tho' he's now being treated for his ear infection. His Breeder says his reluctance to exercise is probably due to a pulled muscle which it could take ages to recover from. I think they should borrow a playmate for me who will run.
The Old Girl said she wanted to do some office work on the computer, but I said my needs come first, and anyway she only wanted to do office work as a more attractive alternative to what she should really be doing, which is steam cleaning the carpets after their brief encounters with soot, and their year long relationships with everything Pip and I have trailed into the house from the garden. She's in a bad mood because although she has washed, dried and ironed all the curtains for the Son's new flat, he won't let her go and hang them or even allow her a sneak preview of his new floor and settee until it's all done. Enough about her.
Here are the pictures taken before and since Christmas of what should have been fun times in the snow.
  
As you can see in these photos I am wearing my new warm pink coat and Pip is wearing his old blue raincoat. I am doing my best to engage him in a little lighthearted fun in the snow, but he refused to have anything to do with me and in the end I just had to enjoy running in the snow on my own. It was his refusal to run in the snow that made them realise there was was something very wrong with him as Pip's love of snow is legendary.
The next photo shows that thereafter my pink coat has been purloined by the hardiest of salukis, and I've been relegated to the raincoat. I didn't really mind. I was too busy having a good time running around to get cold.
  To make up for not running with me Pip did try to introduce me to his third favourite activity which is walking on water or ice skating. I'm not sure it's for me, which made Pip even sadder.
  
So today I thought I'd try to cheer him up by jumping on him from the bushes. It's time he learned that you never know who is lurking behind you. 
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Friday 8th January 2010
I am happy to report that the Son has got the computer mended and I can resume communicating via email and here. I've got so much to tell you that I don't know where to start. Most important is the news that after being taken 3 times to the vets because he has become so lethargic and sad looking, a vet has finally realised what is the matter with Pip. I've been trying to tell them for ages that he's got an ear infection. Why else would I spend so much time sniffing his ear? You'd have thought any vet, faced with a dog as unhappy as Pip has been - refusing treats, snow fights, and runs in the fields - for no obvious reason - would have checked his ears. The Old Girl and Big Toy are defending their ignorance on the basis that as Pip has always enjoyed a good dig with resulting ears full of mud, they didn't realise the gunge in his right ear was anything more than extra dirt. Now they are arguing over the best way to get drops into his ear and antibiotics into his stomach. Poor Pip. He's missed out on lots of fun in the past few weeks. I think he has come up with a very good reason for being excused the awful haltis for the foreseeable future, but it's probably too extreme for me to follow suit. The vet told the BigToy that Pip was such a brave and stoical dog that it wasn't good for him as he'd not let anybody know how much pain he was in. Obviously I wouldn't be so daft. I learned early from Becca that you should cry if somebody even looks at you funny.
I started the New Year making a New Friend, I needed somebody to play with on New Year's Day as Pip was intent on spending all day under the Dining Table. Luckily Little Sis's granddaughter who is more than twice my age (she will be 4 in March) came and we fell in love. She played hide and seek with me, and peek-a-boo, and fed me secret treats from the table. Just when we were getting a bit bored with these games, the BigToy laid on an unexpected and exciting floorshow for all the guests, by setting the chimney on fire. He'd bought some new 'firesticks' from Sainsburys which had been burning quite slowly in the fire for over an hour when, just as we were opening presents, there was a roaring noise in the chimney and on investigating outside we found that roman candle like fireworks were shooting from the chimney pot. The Big Toy ran through to the kitchen and fetched 2 little bowls of water to throw on the fire. The fire in the grate went out but the roaring continued. The Son had the bright idea to run the hosepipe from the garage through the house to the sitting room as a more efficient way of getting water to the fireplace, and for about 10 minutes we all sat in a semicircle around the fire watching the BigToy squirting water up the chimney. When the doorbell rang and a passerby arrived to tell us the chimney was on fire, a decision was taken to ring the fire brigade.
This meant that Pip and I were put into our crates, but I made so much fuss that Little Sis let me out and Big Dave, her husband, restrained me (and nearly choked me to death) for almost the whole one and a half hours that Red Watch's finest Stevo, Mark and Ben worked on sweeping the chimney. We all thought it was very good of them to come out at such short notice on a Bank Holiday and to work so hard for so long (and to look so handsome in the process) for no fee. And they made no mess. And they had all the right equipment to get past the blockage in the chimney which made getting their sticks up very hard work. And they didn't seem to mind performing before the select audience watching and commenting from the stalls. And they all liked dogs. And they took my New Friend, her Dutch Papa, the Big Toy, the Son and Big Dave on to the Fire Engine for a look around, and they gave my New Friend a special book and stickers that she could take to Nursery for Show and Tell. And, according to the assembled females, they were gorgeous. Not that this was of any interest to me - I was far more taken with their special toys and brushes and helmets and gloves. And they were very good humoured, they made everybody laugh, they made everybody feel so safe it never occurred to anybody to feel at all anxious (except of course the OldGirl who was a bit worried that she hadn't cleaned as thoroughly upstairs as she might have done, when they had to go up to check the loft and all internal walls linked to the chimney - we live in the equivalent of a teepee with the fire in the centre of the house). Actually she wasn't too worried as she'd had a fair bit to imbibe at lunch, and had made a token effort to clean upstairs in case anybody wanted to use the bathroom. (Note to Jabari from the Old Girl - tell Jacki that you just never know when 3 gorgeous hunks are going to want to inspect your bedroom - so keep that duster handy!)
The blue flashing lights of the fire engine looked very festive in the snowy twilight as it sat outside the hovel for a couple of hours, brightening up the day for our neighbours, who have shown considerable restraint and not once bothered us with demands to know what happened. Perhaps they don't like to come to the door because of the loud greeting with which I like to welcome visitors.
The BigToy assured the firemen that the chimney had been swept about 2 years ago. Pip whispered to me that it hadn't been done while he'd been resident and he's 3, nor had he ever heard Rosa or Becca mention anybody shoving brushes up the chimney. It has to be said that the BigToy's ability to estimate the passage of time leaves much to be desired. He thought the last excitement laid on for the relatives on New Years Day was also 2 years ago when Rosa and Becca had a spectacular fight over a bowl of trifle. The Old Girl reminded him that this happened 5 years ago, (while Rosa was actually alive) just before he and the Son went off skiing, leaving her and the Relatives to sort out Rosa's emergency operation to remove the canine broken in the course of the fight. He solemnly promised the Firemen that he would get the chimney swept before he lit another fire, and the Sweep came today and found almost a half inch of soot that Red Watch had somehow missed. The Relatives now have very high expectations of what entertainment will be laid on next year. I don't think they'll be able to top 3 firemen, a fire engine and a fire engine driver who I didn't meet. The OldGirl is very cross with herself because at no point while these gorgeous hunks were in her house did she have the presence of mind to use her clever new phone or her dinky pink camera to take any photos of the Firemen, the Fire Engine, the audience, the fireworks from the chimney, me or of Pip who dozed through it all.
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Monday 28th December 2009
I have just returned from the sublime gardens of my aunty Mariel and uncle Chris in Kent where I had great fun running with some older females,- Molly the resident and aged soft coated wheaten terrier who is universally loved by all (except for the Jack Russell also called Molly who lives next door, and whom it is our Molly's ambition to kill, dismember and generally destroy for having in earlier years had the temerity to stick her nose through the garden fence - the vet bills run into £1000s for her efforts so far to fulfill this ambition) and Lydia, a visiting and aged rescue rottweiler, who until her arrival in Kent had been on her last legs in Blackpool. It was a good job for me that these ladies enjoyed my company as Pip, who insisted on coming, was not up to the task of guarding, surveying and keeping in check the 14 acres of beautiful Kent countryside, (home to the dexter cattle, retired horses, chickens, geese and wild pheasant) which surround Chris and Mariel's amazing house. Pip has been on antibiotics since before Christmas as he has lost the desire to run, chase and generally have fun. The Old Girl and Big Toy are very worried, but I'm just making the most of all the opportunities allowed by his malaise, twice the turkey, ham, cream, play for me. In my own defence I have stopped teasing him in the hope that he'll soon return to his more reactive self.
I did hear tell that I was getting a new toy for Christmas, something about a squeaky snowman which the Big Toy said made almost as charming and loud a noise as my favourite squeaky pig, but I haven't found it yet. Perhaps it's because we aren't celebrating Christmas at this residence until New Year when all the Derbyshire family come for dinner and presents. Or perhaps it's got more to do with the Old Girl muttering ' over my dead body....' She's been in a strange mood since she got her new reading glasses and made the mistake of keeping them on while she looked in a mirror.... It transpires that at precisely the time in her life when she most obviously needs to wear make up, she has lost the ability to apply it without a magnifying glass. The term 'precisely' should not be taken literally - she's been wearing reading glasses for their designed purpose for at least 15 years! Nobody told her they could be used for anything else. In future she plans only to engage in intimate conversations with people over 60 who have lost their glasses.
I have tried to employ the Old Girl's new present of a very sleek pink mobile, but none of us can work out how to use it although it promises to make the tea and wash up afterwards, so I am reduced to communicating from the Big Toy's laptop. As he keeps asking for it back, I'll finish with the observation that much as I love Donald Sutherland, especially in Don't Look Now, what idiot cast him as Mr Bennet in the Old Girl's favourite - Pride and Prejudice? Just to reinforce how old she is the Old Girl calls for 'Three cheers for David Rintoul - the definitive Mr Darcy - eat your heart out Colin whatshisname'.
Both Pip and I keep wondering what we have done wrong in former existences - how come we, the most elegant and beautiful dogs in the history of the world, have returned to the hovel in smoky Ilkeston, while Molly and Lydia (aged, female and verging on the overweight) stayed in the exquisite environs of Goudhurst with open log fires and free range geese to bark at. I liked Goudhurst very much. Having refused Mary and Joseph on their way through the village to the Church on Christmas Eve, the staff and customers at The Vine made amends and had plenty of welcoming room for 2 salukis who were received with the appropriate oohs and aahs, and more importantly treats, once the procession had entered the Church. We are thinking of moving. In the North they like salukis, in the south, west and Wales they like salukis, but in the East Midlands, if you are not a whippet, or related to a whippet, you just don't count.
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Thursday 17th December 2009
This is for the benefit of my 2nd reader, the Old Girl's Little Sis, who told me to pull my paw out and get writing 'cos she didn't want to have to wait till next year for my further ramblings. In case you are wondering who my first reader is, and you know who you are, it's my cousin Jabari (JW; ShCh) who likes to know what I've been doing so he can repeat the same tricks for Jacki and Alan, his respective Old Girl and Big Toy. Anyway I'm back in trouble again. I should have seen it coming. It's all down to these blooming haltis. (Just as an aside - there's something funny happening outside - white bits are falling off the sky!)
Back to the haltis, I'd like to send them back where they came from. There is a battle every morning that the Old Girl goes to work. She rises at 6.15 am in the dark, showers, puts on dog clothes and comes downstairs to take us for a walk. Of course we both hide, jump off the settees and into our crates, in the certain knowledge that if we bury our heads in the bedding and can't see her, she won't be able to see us. Obviously she finds us by smell, and eventually gets haltis on both of us and onto a shared lead. She then drags us out into the cold, dark and usually wet morning. By this time she has been downstairs 10 minutes and is running late and swearing at us. Once we are through the door I appear to have given up fighting and trot along beside her with my head up high (so it doesn't pull my face so much), but the Softie Pip struggles all the way trying to get the halti off and with his nose practically on the floor. He hasn't learned yet that it's more comfortable with one's head up, probably because he's never tried that method. Nor has he learned my new trick for punishing her for making us do the walk of shame. It came to me in a flash yesterday morning. Do you want to know what it is? It is so simple and so effective. All you have to do is keep your legs crossed while you're on the walk, and then let it all out when you are back inside the house! And not stop until you've finished, even though she's opened the French doors, tried to shove you through, shouted at you and even smacked you.
It helps if you are like me, a rather unusual saluki who isn't very sensitive about being shouted at or smacked. It would be no good for me if I was sensitive as I get shouted at quite a lot. For months I thought my name was CocoNO yelled at full throttle. Everybody tells them they should discipline me, take control of me and dominate me. I think the only thing they haven't tried is strangling me and that's only cos I can run away faster than them. I don't mind being told off. I like the attention, wag my tail, jump up for a kiss, sit closer for a cuddle, fetch a toy for them to play with and simply do my best to be irresistible by showering them with affection. I am a saluki who does not bear a grudge, unlike Pip, Rosa, Becca and all my forebears. I think they find that quite charming, and it probably explains why I'm still breathing.
Especially with what happened when the Big Girl came home from work yesterday. Because Christmas is coming she got out a very special and rarely seen toy. It makes a lot of noise and makes the floor less gritty and hairy. I like to bark at it and try and jump on it. She grumps around with it, moves furniture and tells me to get out of the way. Periodically she switches it off and digs out clumps of hair and strands of wool from dismembered tug a toys from the head of this noisy beast. Pip who is 2 years older than me ignores it because he has seen it at work on at least 5 more occasions than me. As part of the Christmas clean up the Old Girl had stripped the cover and cushion covers from my favourite settee to wash - don't worry I'll soon have it back to normal. She obviously hoped that a quick vacuum under the cushions of the other sofa would suffice, but when she lifted my blanket off she made a terrible discovery. I'd saved some of my flood for the sofa with the consequence that the sofa, the sofa cover, the cushion covers and the foam cushions had all been drenched. I'd forgotten about it and felt a bit ashamed. Pip told me off worse than she did -'not the done thing, my lad, letting down the good name of salukis' and all that twaddle. Pip prides himself on being a very clean boy, no accidents at all. Obviously I'm talking toilet matters here. Coming in covered in duckweed, mud, slugs, seeds and general debris does not count.
I think the other reason why she refrained from doing me some damage was that she had had a telephone call from the Weald Smokery to say she'd won the raffle prize of a hamper when she ordered one a few weeks ago. For anybody wanting to try their luck next year the address is www.wealdsmokery.co.uk. Great food apparently, not that we dogs get to eat much in the way of smoked venison and duck, unless we are very sneaky and quick. The Old Girl is quite precious with her food, guards it with her life, but the Big Toy has lost his dinner (meat and potatoes - not brussels or beans, thank you very much) on more than one occasion through sheer absent mindedness or the stupidity of leaving it unattended for the briefest of moments.
The result of my little mistake yesterday is that the washing machine has been working non-stop trying to keep up with all the covers that need washing. The Old Girl has been reduced to using biological washing stuff to try to deter me from repeating the same thing in future. She is very upset about that as any contact either of them has with anything washed in biological stuff brings them both out in big itchy ugly red rashes. Another way of keeping them off at least one of my preferred seats.
She's fighting a losing battle trying to get the place looking fit for Christmas anyway. Nobody except the closest of family (maternal grand-dam and Little Sis) has been allowed across the threshold since shortly after my arrival, because the place is such a mess. Only people with impaired senses of smell, sight and hearing would willingly accept an invitation to the hovel in which I am forced to dwell. It most certainly is not fit for a saluki or two. I do not take full responsibility for the state of the place. Pip also helped with tearing the wallpaper off the dining room wall. He also contributes a significant amount of hair to the environment. If truth be told it is Pip who insists on going into the downstairs loo for a drink, Pip who has dug up the downstairs loo floor tiles trying to get out, and it is me who realises where he is and me who goes and pushes the door open to rescue him. I suppose I do do most of the barking whenever anybody dares to ring the doorbell, and I do sound quite fierce. We take it in turns to try to shred the the rugs or scratch the wooden floors. The accumulated odours of damp dog, pigs ears, wet washing, the BigToys shoes, mice in the garage, the Son's leftovers, the Old Girl's boots, and little accidents mean the Old Girl has not issued any invitations to their wonderful friends to visit for almost a year. She and the BigToy are nonetheless eternally grateful to the support of their non-saluki owning friends, Pat, Sue and Mike, and Fiona and Russell, who have collectively made an almost unbearable time tolerable. (And it definitely was not my fault that both of their former employers chose to behave badly in the same week. It was just a coincidence that the Old Girl sprained her ankle walking with me in the Dales at the same time). I think they should also be thanking their lucky stars for the maternal granddam ( who I lurve - but who isn't always sure about me) and the Little Sis and her brood for everything.
Today is special because the maternal granddam (who I lurve) is moving in up the road. I keep expecting to get chucked off the computer while the Old Girl goes to help unpack, but there is so much packing to be done at the other end the removal men are not ready to leave yet. They've still got to get the big settee downstairs! (Another aside - that white stuff dropping from the sky is now all over the ground, and the Old Girl has just made me go out in it even though it is very cold. She didn't even let me put on the gorgeous (but pink) new coat she bought last weekend at LKA. Never mind - I'll get my own back while she's out unpacking - hee, hee, hee). I also keep expecting to be cast off the computer because for the past few months it has been turning itself off without warning when it has had enough. Sometimes it just refuses to work, sometimes you only have to look at it and it shuts down. So the Son has decided that the week before Christmas is a good time to send it back for repair. Perhaps they'll see it again in Spring. This could be my last missive for a while.
Today is also special because tonight I am going to my first Christmas party at my Ringcraft class. I make a point of being good there and nobody who sees me at the shows would think I was the same dog. Pip went to the Agility Christmas party last Sunday with the BigToy. They had a great time, coming last in every race - sausage and spoon race, sackrace and recall race. They also got there too late for the food. The Bigtoy's excuse for coming last was that he has a hernia. Pip's was that he couldn't concentrate with the Bigtoy trying to jump about in a black bin liner, and he preferred chasing the other dogs in the recall rather than return. The Old Girl and I had been invited but she declined on our behalf, saying that 3 hours in a cold equestrian centre with loads of yapping dogs was more fun than she could cope with.
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR 2010 TO BOTH MY READERS.
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Sunday 6th December 2009
I don't seem to have done anything much lately to write home about, except go to shows, and come last. The paternal grand matriarch says this is because I have been behaving particularly badly, but the Old Girl thinks I always behave the same way, and the Big Toy who actually takes me into the ring thinks I'm getting better! The Softie Pip has been doing quite well at the shows where the judge doesn't like me, but I was doing OK at the shows where the judge didn't like him. We have in the past been to the occasional show where the judge liked both of us, and even more shows where the judge didn't like either of us. What can I say - it's a trip out and a chance to humiliate them for continuing to make me wear the halti. They've even made the Softie wear one which has done nothing for his temper and he's even started getting very cross with me if I nip and bother him too much. I think he's taking his displeasure at the halti out on me, because he always used to let me get away with blue murder. The Old Girl says it's because Pip can read a calendar and knows I'm not a puppy any more and must mend my ways.
Speaking of calendars - have I mentioned that there is an enormous photo of me in the SGHC calendar for next year - sunning myself in the field. I am well chuffed. Naturally all the relations will be getting a copy of the Calendar for Christmas. Won't they be chuffed? I have heard mutterings from the relations about the Old Girl and Big Toy 'thinking more of those damn dogs' than they do of the relations, but after a quick poll with other salukis I learned that that is not unusual. Most relations of most saluki owners think the salukis come first (as of course we should). Mind you the Son has threatened to move out if the Old Girl forgets his name and calls him Pip or Coco again. As this is inevitable the date has been set for 4th Jan 2010. So he'll need a calendar too. I must remind her to order another one.
Anyway my latest news is that I am to have my own page on another website being set up by Karen Smith for Caryna Salukis. I'm trying not to take it too hard that the rest of them are all Champions or have CCs and RCCs after their names, (but I am in the calendar!) To see my page (when Karen has received it), and those that already exist go to www.carynasaluki.webs.com. On this page I will go by real name which is Caryna Curetes, but everybody calls me Coco or monster cos nobody knows how to pronounce Curetes. Most people think I'm named after the clown - can't think why, but actually, and I think this might be even more insulting, I'm named after their email address.
I should by rights be in the pub by now (that is if they'll let me in again cos I made the mistake last week of having a colossal flood in the bar which took several grown men by surprise and an inordinate amount of time to clear up), but the Big Toy is late back from a NSC committee meeting and the pub will be too full to accommodate us. We'll just have to go to the field again instead. Perhaps today I won't chase Pip into the river, normally not a problem, but yesterday it was so deep and running so fast he actually had to swim hard to get out. He wasn't pleased with me and showed me the full force of his anger by baring his teeth at me and grumbling. He has got quite a lot of big teeth. It's been so wet even the boggy patch fully resembled a pond, as I discovered too late to stay as dry as I prefer. Pip took refuge in the pond and dared me to come in after him but having got drenched once I just ran around the edge.
We have just returned from the field. I've never seen it like this with the entrance calf high in water, but Pip tells me that last year it was over knee high in water for some weeks, and the Old Girl, having shorter legs than the rest of us, couldn't get in at all.. Pip did not have to go far to get into the river as the river had come into the field. The dustbowl under the M1 was flooded so we couldn't get into the other 2 fields or to the pond. To make up for this I tried very hard to chase Pip into the field high river which was racing past, but the screams of 'no' in unison from the humans just stopped him on every occasion and I got put on my lead for pestering him. No fun at all.
I am usually a very happy and bouncy chappy, but I was very upset to hear from the Old Girl that Zendi, a ring mate/rival of Pip's, has died. We don't know how, but we are very sad for the family. Pip says he was a lovely gent, always behaved very well, so all our thoughts are with the Shakespeares and the Cairdeans. On this very sad note I am going for a rest. (Editor's note. A lovely photo of Zendi in action is in the calendar for March).
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Saturday 7th November 2009
Today is another special day, because my big soft mate Pip is in the doghouse and I'm not. In fact I'm quite flavour of the month with the Old Girl. (The Big Toy mentioned that although she is the only Bitch in the house, some females object to being described as bitches, so to stay in her good books I'm trying to rename her in my head). I'm not sure what I've done right, but I do know that Pip has 'got it on him' according to the Old Girl. I don't know what that means either, but I don't think it's good. He does not look any different to me, still wet, muddy and featherless, perhaps a bit noisier than usual with lots of impatient moaning waiting for our walk, waiting to reach the field, waiting to get in the garden, waiting to dry and waiting to be released from the doghouse.
Anyway as well as not being in trouble today I particularly enjoyed our trip to the field this morning. The sun was shining, the rabbits were racing, and I had the pleasure of watching Pip jump the railway fence to follow a fox across the railway line. Most of the foxes we see are near home when we are on leads so we can't give them what for, but today we both noticed the fox at the same time and went hell for leather after it.
Although I did manage to jump over a gate into a field full of cows while in the Yorkshire Dales last week ( after only one pre-agility class), something Pip had never thought to do after 18 months of agility training, I did not think one bedraggled fox merited me leaping over a 5 ft fence through brambles and nettles. I decided discretion was the better part of valour and left the showing off to Pip who flew over the fence as if it wasn't there and disappeared. He completely ignored the Big Toy's and Old Girl's screeches to Stop, Come, and No, probably because he didn't understand what they wanted him to do. Naturally they grabbed hold of me and made a big loud fuss of me. This seemed to have the desired effect because Pip turned up further up the line on the other side of the fence. Of course he couldn't remember how to get over the fence, and the Big Toy had to somehow lift him back over. Good job he's tall.
We were allowed back off the lead once we'd got past the M1 bridge where there are loads of nettles and thistles, so we don't like walking through that bit. We had another good chase which always ends with Pip in the river, and then back to the car and home. As soon as we got in Pip asked to be let out into the garden, and came back in with muddy feet - he'd obviously been digging holes without me. The Old Girl took him straight out to hose him down, and while she went to get a towel to dry him, he ran off and dug another one. Once she'd repeated the hosing down and dried him he was marched into his crate and told to rest. Of course I had been too tired to join in the garden adventures and had just found a nice clean chair to snooze on, so I didn't have to go in my crate. In fact I haven't moved since. I'm a good boy!
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Wednesday 14th October 2009
This morning has been quite exciting as the Bitch decided to take me and my soft mate Pip out for a long walk without the Big Toy, who has suddenly taken to disappearing early every morning just after he's broken something in the bathroom and disturbed my sleep. It's not the noise of the crash that wakes me but the bad language that follows. Yesterday it was a glass soap dish dropped into the shower and today an expensive bottle of the Son's aftershave. We are not looking forward to tomorrow's offering.
You might think going for a walk is nothing to write home about, but this was a novel experience, as due to circumstances beyond my control, the Bitch has not been amenable to walking with me and Pip without company.
I knew something was up when she put this strange thing on my face and attached my lead to it. I DO NOT LIKE IT. I made so much fuss that she eventually took the lead off and reconnected it to my beautiful collar. But she refused to take the thing off my face. I've seen my sister with one of these things on her face, and apparently my Breeder, who is normally right about everything, swears by them for stopping us pulling. She left it on my face and no amount of rubbing my head against any number of objects including her would dislodge it. I AM NOT HAPPY. It's not fair. She didn't put anything on Pip's face and he's stronger and faster than me, even though he does let me bite him incessantly. He used to have ear feathering before I came along and I soon put a stop to that.
She walked us miles on short leads. We met several other dogs, and she just would not let me get to know them. She wouldn't even let me bark or growl a greeting. She's no fun, and in the end I decided to just trudge along next to her. Then we got to a field with nobody in it and she let us off the leads. So to spoil her fun we decided not to have a run, and that softie Pip even did some waits practice. Of course he got treats for doing nothing for 2 minutes, but I wouldn't demean myself by joining in for the rubbishy treats she'd got in her pocket. I was a bit tired after the running in the field we'd done yesterday, and I am only a puppy and wanted a drink of water. She'd taken us to a stream on the way to the field. The softie had gone in as usual, but I'm a rather superior being who doesn't like getting his feet wet. She tried the stream again on the way back, but I still refused to drink. I made it plain I just wanted to get home, so she took us on a short cut.
The short cut involved crossing a bit of a ditch which had filled with water since the last time we'd crossed it, so the Bitch, holding a lead in each hand, jumped across safely, telling us to jump at the same time. BUT WE DIDN'T. Of course, as she'd taken us out on short leads, and with the ditch being a couple of feet wide, what with her being on one side, us being on the other, and my flash of genius to move backwards away from the ditch and dig my heels in, I GOT MY OWN BACK ON HER and she fell in. More bad language. She belatedly let go of both the leads so Softie and I had a quick conflab, and considered racing away into the wide blue yonder, but on mature reflection decided that it would be more fun to jump the ditch and watch her limp home with a boot full of stagnant ditch water. I don't know why she complained so much. Only half of her fell into the water, the other half was dry. Actually it made her smell more interesting than usual, so I was quite keen to be near her. Softie also likes a strong scent to sniff at, so he didn't mind.
The downside of this achievement is that she disappeared as soon as we got home, flinging boots, trousers and other interesting garments on the floor, and hasn't spoken to me since. I think she's having a sulk. We've been giving her lessons, but she's got a long way to go yet. After all sulking is a saluki speciality. Pip's actually better at it than me, but I'm learning fast. When she comes out of hers I'm going into one of my own because I've still got this damn thing on my face!
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