The Scard-iest Dog In The World

I may have mentioned this before, in fact I have mentioned this before, but we share our abode with the scard-iest dog in the world.

Jake is a Golden Retriever, ok he's more white than golden but Golden Retriever is his breed and he has an impressive pedigree to prove it.

Golden Retrievers are gun dogs, that is their purpose, the reason for their breeding and we bought Jake from a proper, real-life gamekeeper, yes I thought gamekeepers only existed in Catherine Cookson novels too, but this was a real live gamekeeper living in a tiny cottage way up inside North Yorkshire, it took nearly an hour to drive to and find his humble abode on a large private estate there.

The gamekeeper had two pens of working dogs, some Retrievers and some Labradors, and he explained how they work both breeds out in the field, the Labradors being the best ground scenters and the Retrievers being the best air scenters, work both together and you'll get your shot-down game back every time.

Jake was a twelve week old pup in a cage with two of his sisters when we first saw him and the genuine gamekeeper explained that all of his brothers had been taken for gun dog training, he then showed us the family pedigree with Jakes father being a champion gundog, as was his grandfather and several other relations in the family tree.

It begged the obvious question, "Why is Jake not being trained as a gun dog then ?", so I asked the obvious question.

The obvious question had an obvious answer, "Because he is frightened of guns" the gamekeeper informed, "...but he will make an excellent pet dog..." he hurridly tagged on, "...because he is as soft as shite"

And indeed he is

So we are all sitting around the Christmas Day dinner table tucking into our turkey etc, and someone decides to pull a cracker - as crackers do it went off with a soft bang - and Jake scarpered out of the room

We didn't notice he'd gone at first and so continued pulling crackers until someone mentioned that he was not sitting at the end of the table waiting in vain for scraps as is his duty as a Retriever (they eat until they burst then eat some more), I found him in another room curled up and shivering on a settee - he is ten years old this year and he has never ever jumped onto a settee, he just knows its not the dog thing to do but he was terrified by the christmas crackers and something in his doggy head related the settee with a safe place

I dragged him back into the dining room and we continued with the traditional "eat until you are sick" christmas lunch until another cracker was pulled and he ran out of the room again

This time we found him in one of the girls bedrooms, a place he always goes to when we have a thunder storm during the night, apparently its safe for dogs if you hide from thunder under a bed, the same goes for christmas crackers apparently

It was then that we realised that it was the crackers that were doing it to him so we had to desist - does anyone want to pull the remaining five crackers out of the box for us - preferably out of hearing range of one big scare-dy dog who's profession should have been hunting with guns ?

A walking day...

Just seven months and three days since we last went there, three of us and the dog took a hike to Bolton Abbey Strid Woods again yesterday and whilst the weather wasn't a lot different to the last time (New Years Eve) it was a lot more humid.

As we set off a light mist of a rain started to fall, the sort of rain that you don't even notice because its so fine, it just seems to hang around in the air like a thin and damp gauze in front of your face but after you walked half a mile you realise that your soaked.

Unfortunately I'd dressed for colder wetter weather and with a t-shirt and sweatshirt already on and now wet I had to concede to the elements and don the waterproof jacket - it wasn't so much raining as the humidity was visible in the air and it soon got very warm inside the clothing.

Its a nice walk, a couple of miles up one side of the river, cross at an aquaduct and then back down the other side, the river still being in almost full spate after the recent deluges and looking back at the photos that I took in December last year, which may or may not appear as if by magic when you click this bit, it wasn't hugely different other than the leaves on the trees yesterday - from recollection it was a warm wet day in December too, our British micro climate does not really distinguish too much between the seasons anymore.

A presumed victim of the recent floods spotted by Jodie laying in the shallows of a branch tributory of the main river, a small dead deer washed up on a shingle branch, and all along the pathway a nice new addition to the wooded walk - sculptures in metal and wood every quarter mile or so hidden in the trees, some already damaged and vandalised - who does that sort of thing, this place is well out of the reach of your townie vandals, its not the haunt of teenage gangs, its a place where families and old fogies go for a gentle five mile walk along a wooded river - which one of those groups of people sees a sculpture along the way and decides that they have an overwhelming need to damage it ? Fuckwits.


At the end of it all we had a tired, wet old dog who, if popular folklore is to be believed, is around 63 years old now in dog years, I don't believe a word of it as at nine years old Jake still looks and behaves like a puppy to me, still can hear a chocolate biscuit being unwrapped from three rooms away, and still whines with excitement every time we get his lead and harness out for a walk like yesterday.