Yet more incidents from the life of our not yet 5 month old puppy Hector.
November 5th
Today I watch Planet Earth 3 and I am now looking forward to David Attenborough narrating an episode on this strange creature whose diet today has consisted of the sofa, earth from the garden and a Welsh cake. Carry on like that and he may well find himself on the endangered list!
I wouldn’t mind but he’s not even Welsh!
November 15th
Recently our back door has taken on a strange brown colour and we haven’t for the life of us been able to work out what might have caused it. Today though I think I might have caught the culprit…not red handed perhaps, but certainly muddy pawed!
November 21st
Whilst walking Hector in ‘The Peaks’, the rain it pitter-pattered,
But to our canny canine friend, in truth it hardly mattered,
For though a stream he’d not ‘ere seen, he showed no hesitation,
And so got wet without the need of cloud precipitation.
Along the sodden paths he sniffed, his tail he held up high,
And when the mud we bid him ‘Leave’, he could not fathom why,
‘Cos self respecting Labradors, will of their own volition,
Stop to devour, all they see fit, for speedy deglutition*!
*Apologies for the use of the fancy medical term for swallowing but old habits die hard and it was kind of necessary for the rhyme to work. I will try to be less magniloquent in future!
November 22nd
‘I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with S’, said Hector, demonstrating to everyone how good he now is at spelling. But his direction of gaze did somewhat give the game away!
November 23rd
Disappointed by suggestions that his spelling ability was imagined rather than real, Hector challenged me today to a game of Scrabble. He won of course – establishing an unassailable lead with an impressive opening score of 106, I never stood a chance!
November 25th
Pausing to avail myself of the flask of hot coffee with which I’d had the good sense to set out this morning, Hector took the opportunity to seat himself on a rocky ledge positioned a little higher than the patch of grass where I myself had chosen to take my ease.
Exaggerating the degree of fortification that his present surroundings provided, he then announced himself to be the ‘King of the Castle’, before having the temerity to add that he considered me to be a ‘rascal’, and a not particularly clean one at that. All this despite the fact that it was he, not I, who had spent much of our ramble consuming what most would consider unfit for canine, let alone human, consumption.
‘A rapscallion I may be’, I countered, ‘but at least I don’t eat the egested material of a hundred hillside herbivores’. The pleasure afforded me by my alliterative put down lasted only a moment however, as, adopting a supercilious air, he fixed me with his deep dark eyes and suggested that now might be a good time for me to polish his crown.
Chastened, I rummaged through my rucksack and pulled out the tin of Brasso that I always carry with for just such an occurrence as this. And so, dutifully submitting to the task in hand, I became the ever so humble servant of King Hector the Halitotic.
Other dog related blogs:
To read ‘The Return of a Dog Called Hector’, click here
To read ‘A Dog Called Hector’, click here
To read ‘A Farewell to Barns’, click here
To read ‘Dr Dog’, click here
To raw ‘A not so shaggy dog story’, click here
To read ‘On approaching one’s sell by date’ click here
To read ‘Scooby Doo and the Deserted Medical Centre’, click here
To read ‘Scooby Doo and the Mystery of the Deseted Cricket Ground’, click here
Some musings 