June. Mostly a lot of fun, at school and at home. Trips out - down to the Upper School to see a play, great to see my former pupils, almost unrecognisable as a couple of years older.
Threw our caretaker/driver for a loop when he heard me say, 'Don't say the F word in this bus...' Fortnite.
Speechless when The Love of My Life proudly told me he had bought me a robotic vacuum cleaner as a birthday present..
Storm Miguel. From a day of scorching heat and sunshine to a weekend of Storm Miguel, rain battering the windows as if it were autumn. Then a couple more weeks big wind and rain and cold. #whereisthesummer #flamingjuneisadampsquib
Short tempers among the staff from demanding parents.
Cara Grace continues to delight. Ever-smiling, chuckling at the slightest opportunity, she is an incredibly reactive baby. Loving people, imitating smiles or press-ups with equal enthusiasm - and trying to start to crawl. Delightful - and of course unsuccessful, when you are only just approaching seven months old. Crawling is a little difficult when you are so laid back and relaxed, but she'll get there. Eventually.
Packing up the house was a busy first couple of weeks, doing our annual tidy away and deep spring clean before the first guests arrived. We took ourselves off to Fauxquets Valley campsite, enjoying the peace and quiet and the opportunity to remind ourselves of how to live the motorhome life once more. The little, solar-heated pool was fun, although the first few days were grey, cloudy, foggy, rainy and sometimes warm...not June weather at all, really. But then... summer arrived! 27 degrees, hot, sunny, a delight. #Guernseyatitsbest
Pickle, of course, loves van life. Not so keen on the friendly resident collies. One dared to appear at the door of the motorhome our first morning, casually saying hello, but Pickle would have none of it. I'll gloss over the details, but fur flew and the collie kept its distance. 20 metres, to be exact. 'High Noon' occurred regularly as both dogs stared each other down for twenty minutes or so...
Not only that, but Pickle then developed a grudge against another 'Patterdale' (a dubious claim: the small hairy black dog looked like Hairy Maclary, the hero of Cara's beloved board book). She had to be kept on a VERY short lead...
And another delight: exploring all kinds of unknown lanes and tracks as we navigated around the campsite: including my daily trek to school. #gettingtoknowGuernsey.
Showing posts with label Pickle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pickle. Show all posts
Thursday, 20 June 2019
Saturday, 7 July 2018
Journeying through July
July began with the end of term craziness and the end of a delightful friendship for Pickle.
With the postman.
She had got to know him quite well. He always seemed pleased to see her, even when, one day when he was sitting doing paperwork in his van, she hopped in the back, ready to come on his rounds with him. He even took to getting her to sign for the parcels he delivered...
Now, we have different posties. All quite pleasant - this is Guernsey, after all, where the community is small and friendly - but none have, as yet, begun to bond with this little Patterdale terrier....but she's working on them. Her friendliness is very hard to resist.... watch this space.
So... end of term. A week so crazy busy that I had each day planned down to the last half hour. Packing and cleaning were, for me, secondary to the demands of school, but Richard worked intensively to get the motorhome ready and the house cleaned ready for guests. Intermittently, I packed for going away and packed away unnecessary clutter, leaving the house clear.
Evenings were filled with prizegiving and concerts, interspersed with catching up with friends. We sat on the roof terrace of Wendy and Nicholas's flat overlooking L'Ancresse beach and common, watching kestrels swooping and hovering. There was even a visit from four goldfinches, who perched on the balcony wall. Wonderful to catch up on news in such an idyllic setting. Then, the night before we left, our wonderful neighbours invited us over. So relaxing to sit in the garden in the warmth of the evening.
And, of course, the week was full of finishing off and goodbyes to our Year Sixes before they moved on to senior school. I had cleared my classroom the week before, so we were able to concentrate on organising a wonderful Leavers' Service at church. The children wrote and read their own prayers: most of the year group stood up in front of 200 people, reading clearly and organising themselves beautifully. We were very proud of them.
Inbetween, I managed to put posies of hydrangeas and ox-eye daisies together for my some of my wonderful, supportive colleagues. Such fun, to write appreciative notes. And to reflect on how things have changed this year, and how far I have been able, with God's help, to come. A year ago, my blood pressure was dangerously high: now, the best it has ever been. And I am stronger in my spirit, in spite of all the attack last year. I can reflect and be thankful for God's strength and my friends' and colleagues' love and support. God is good, good, good - as the children sang, having chosen 'King of My Heart' as one of their songs.
Last day of term was emotional for children: last game of football together (boys AND girls!); last game of 'Empires'; final assembly. Lots of awards, but we finished with a spontaneous performance of George Ezra's 'Shotgun', which Year 6 have been mad about. The school joined in with the actions which the children had put to the song while they were away on activity week.
The end of term is, always, an anti-climax, so I was happy to jump on my bicycle, five minutes after the last child left and all the goodbyes had been said, to whizz down the hill to meet Richard at the ferry. We were off to France...www.travelswithpickle.blogspot.com here we come! In the words of George Ezra:
"I'll be riding shotgun, underneath the hot sun, feeling like a someone - oh yeah"
Of course, the rest of the month whizzed by in a heat haze...but one more thing must be said. Richard bought a SCOBY (which apparently stands for Symbiotic Culture Of Bacteria and Yeast) and some starter tea for making kombucha, which is, basically, sweet fermented tea. Aarrgh! What to do with this 'monster' which has to be delicately and carefully nurtured, using precise measurements of tea, sugar and hot water, precise temperatures for brewing and precise instruments and vessels. (No metal AT ALL - remove rings! - and brew in a glass container.)
How to do this in a motorhome?
Well, poor SCOBY. He got shoved into a plastic box, covered with a lid for travelling more often than was supposed to happen, jiggled around for hours in the van, rather than sitting sedately on a countertop; encountered direct sunlight (big no no) and was subjected to temperatures far above those recommended. Oh dear.
But guess what? HE THRIVED! He grew enormous very quickly, birthing a 'baby' (yes SCOBY should be 'she' but there is no doubt that all its characteristics were, in my mind, masculine: sensitive fussy, needing to be looked after carefully....) and brewing kombucha at an astonishing rate. It should take 5 - 21 days, at 21 - 25 degrees Celsius, but Mr Scoby manages to produce a delicious brew at temperatures well above thirty degrees in just a matter of hours: 24 - 48, to be precise.
I've separated 'baby' from 'mother' once - and he instantly seemed to double in size. What to do now....?
Whatever. Scoby has been a great travelling companion and I shall do my best to continue to keep him happy.... more updates next month.
With the postman.
She had got to know him quite well. He always seemed pleased to see her, even when, one day when he was sitting doing paperwork in his van, she hopped in the back, ready to come on his rounds with him. He even took to getting her to sign for the parcels he delivered...
Now, we have different posties. All quite pleasant - this is Guernsey, after all, where the community is small and friendly - but none have, as yet, begun to bond with this little Patterdale terrier....but she's working on them. Her friendliness is very hard to resist.... watch this space.
So... end of term. A week so crazy busy that I had each day planned down to the last half hour. Packing and cleaning were, for me, secondary to the demands of school, but Richard worked intensively to get the motorhome ready and the house cleaned ready for guests. Intermittently, I packed for going away and packed away unnecessary clutter, leaving the house clear.
Evenings were filled with prizegiving and concerts, interspersed with catching up with friends. We sat on the roof terrace of Wendy and Nicholas's flat overlooking L'Ancresse beach and common, watching kestrels swooping and hovering. There was even a visit from four goldfinches, who perched on the balcony wall. Wonderful to catch up on news in such an idyllic setting. Then, the night before we left, our wonderful neighbours invited us over. So relaxing to sit in the garden in the warmth of the evening.
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| Evening sky over Morningstar |
Inbetween, I managed to put posies of hydrangeas and ox-eye daisies together for my some of my wonderful, supportive colleagues. Such fun, to write appreciative notes. And to reflect on how things have changed this year, and how far I have been able, with God's help, to come. A year ago, my blood pressure was dangerously high: now, the best it has ever been. And I am stronger in my spirit, in spite of all the attack last year. I can reflect and be thankful for God's strength and my friends' and colleagues' love and support. God is good, good, good - as the children sang, having chosen 'King of My Heart' as one of their songs.
Last day of term was emotional for children: last game of football together (boys AND girls!); last game of 'Empires'; final assembly. Lots of awards, but we finished with a spontaneous performance of George Ezra's 'Shotgun', which Year 6 have been mad about. The school joined in with the actions which the children had put to the song while they were away on activity week.
The end of term is, always, an anti-climax, so I was happy to jump on my bicycle, five minutes after the last child left and all the goodbyes had been said, to whizz down the hill to meet Richard at the ferry. We were off to France...www.travelswithpickle.blogspot.com here we come! In the words of George Ezra:
"I'll be riding shotgun, underneath the hot sun, feeling like a someone - oh yeah"
Of course, the rest of the month whizzed by in a heat haze...but one more thing must be said. Richard bought a SCOBY (which apparently stands for Symbiotic Culture Of Bacteria and Yeast) and some starter tea for making kombucha, which is, basically, sweet fermented tea. Aarrgh! What to do with this 'monster' which has to be delicately and carefully nurtured, using precise measurements of tea, sugar and hot water, precise temperatures for brewing and precise instruments and vessels. (No metal AT ALL - remove rings! - and brew in a glass container.)
How to do this in a motorhome?
Well, poor SCOBY. He got shoved into a plastic box, covered with a lid for travelling more often than was supposed to happen, jiggled around for hours in the van, rather than sitting sedately on a countertop; encountered direct sunlight (big no no) and was subjected to temperatures far above those recommended. Oh dear.
But guess what? HE THRIVED! He grew enormous very quickly, birthing a 'baby' (yes SCOBY should be 'she' but there is no doubt that all its characteristics were, in my mind, masculine: sensitive fussy, needing to be looked after carefully....) and brewing kombucha at an astonishing rate. It should take 5 - 21 days, at 21 - 25 degrees Celsius, but Mr Scoby manages to produce a delicious brew at temperatures well above thirty degrees in just a matter of hours: 24 - 48, to be precise.
I've separated 'baby' from 'mother' once - and he instantly seemed to double in size. What to do now....?
Whatever. Scoby has been a great travelling companion and I shall do my best to continue to keep him happy.... more updates next month.
Sunday, 29 April 2018
April. Adventures. Anxiety. ANN!
April has been a strange month. For the first two weeks, we adventured off to France, exploring with Pickle. So much to see and discover, amid mixed weather: a couple of days of persistent rain, some wind, more sunshine and a couple of days of summer-style warmth. Not bad for the month.
Yet, in the middle of it, some very sad news. My dearest friend, Ann, passed on halfway through the month, finally succumbing to pneumonia after a long and brave battle with lung cancer. Words cannot express how I feel, although I have jotted down some memories here. My new head kindly allowed me the day to attend the funeral. Although it was one of the saddest days I have had for a long tithme, it was good to meet up with her husband Richard and my dear friends Catherine and Mary - the other 'sisters' in our tight-knit group.
Then, back to work. The term has started at full gallop, as usual: always so much to do. A full scale musical production, then straight into our World War Two studies. First off was a trip to the Occupation Museum, a wonderful private collection of all kinds of Occupation-themed artefacts.
The film of the book 'The Potato Peel Pie Literary Society' had just come out, a tale about the Occupation of Guernsey during WW2 by the Germans, so there is a lot of local interest. We spent the last Saturday of the month visiting one of the gun batteries, the Mirus battery in St Saviours. A local organisation, Festung Guernsey, are doing a wonderful job slowly restoring some of the old installations, sharing them with the public. Fascinating to see, through photographs and the remains of the enormous bunkers, the huge German war machine in action. Awe-inspiring engineering.
At home, catching up with friends again through letters and emails, over meals, afternoon tea and on our Thursday nights...lovely.
A full month, too much to take in, really.
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| Enormous swell off the south coast - perhaps up to twenty feet |
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| Beautiful 'summer's' evening at Rocquaine |
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| Found in the garden centre car park: the latest Lamborghini. #notinterested |
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| Pickle's preferred breakfast position |
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| Found in the kitchen: an unusual moth... |
Then, back to work. The term has started at full gallop, as usual: always so much to do. A full scale musical production, then straight into our World War Two studies. First off was a trip to the Occupation Museum, a wonderful private collection of all kinds of Occupation-themed artefacts.
The film of the book 'The Potato Peel Pie Literary Society' had just come out, a tale about the Occupation of Guernsey during WW2 by the Germans, so there is a lot of local interest. We spent the last Saturday of the month visiting one of the gun batteries, the Mirus battery in St Saviours. A local organisation, Festung Guernsey, are doing a wonderful job slowly restoring some of the old installations, sharing them with the public. Fascinating to see, through photographs and the remains of the enormous bunkers, the huge German war machine in action. Awe-inspiring engineering.
At home, catching up with friends again through letters and emails, over meals, afternoon tea and on our Thursday nights...lovely.
A full month, too much to take in, really.
Thursday, 30 March 2017
Mad March
March began wild and blustery. On the 3rd, I cycled home through FOUR different thunderstorm showers. Lightning, a deluge of water and flooded roads. It's hilarious on a bike - you're so wet, wet through to the underwear, that it ends up not mattering. And this was despite my wonderful 'Rainlegs' which cover my thighs and normally do an amazing job of keeping the top of my legs dry. That day, they seemed to give up: the water was splashing up UNDERNEATH them. There were still a couple of inches near the top of my legs where I was still dry by the time I got home....
Fun. The dog, of course, hates thunderstorms and presses up closely against us while the thunder peals. Usually, that is. Sometimes she just gets annoyed and goes round the house barking loudly, before she gives up in disgust and climbs back on to the sofa to curl into a small black ball.
Then, mid-month, suddenly SPRING CAME. For a day, initially. The next was back to grey and mist and mizzle and drizzle. And more wind than was on the forecast. But we had a glorious Monday of full sunshine. The daffodils have already been shouting out their glory for several weeks, but now the odd crocus has appeared in the garden, with a shy cyclamen flower struggling up from underneath a stone.
So, now, daffodils have sprung up everywhere. I planted a bagful of bulbs I had brought with me from Barnsfield - by the time I got round to it, in December, the poor bulbs had become fed up with waiting for me and had put their roots out already, becoming hopelessly entangled with each other. It took much soaking in water and gentle pulling to disengage them from each other.
But the bulbs I planted - and which have bloomed so generously - seem like nothing when I see those which are already here. Clumps of green spikes and then yellow flowers have appeared everywhere: under bushes, in 'bare' patches, on top of the grassy hedge banks and even growing out of the vertical sides of the banks themselves. The garden blazes with yellow fire in the sunshine.
There are unusual varieties as well: fragrant narcissi perfume the air from the troughs outside the front door; creamy yellow lacy trumpets hide behind the nerines; on the banks, I see bright yellow outer calyxes with deep orange tubular centres: the aptly named and unusual Will Scarlet, perhaps. Other narcissi are the ubiquitous creamy pale thick clusters:
These grew, unsolicited, at Barnsfield. Their perfume was strong: so much so that, one morning early on in our stay there, I had gone out into the garden and picked a bunch which I displayed in the kitchen. I went out again, only to find them, on my return, lying disconsolately on the paving outside the kitchen. The scent - cloying, pungent, almost redolent of cow dung, at times - was too strong for Jonny. He had come downstairs, recoiled at the smell, located the offending blooms, opened the kitchen window and... simply plucked them from the vase and threw them out. I learned not to pick them again...
So the daffodils have been a welcome brightener in a month dogged by fog. I like it, myself: I love the silence, the deadening of sound, which the fog brings. Even the traffic sounds quiet and of course the planes do not fly... and there is something eerily beautiful about the mist:
Otherwise, my bike commute home is, for the most part, through tranquil lanes. The banks are studded with primroses, celandines and the odd violet. Daffodils erupt on the field edges; Brussels sprouts, nearing the end of their season, still stand on stalks, slightly brown now. I near the house and see the sea... This is such a welcome change from my previous commute which wound its way among houses: ribbon development on Guernsey dominates, so I would see glimpses of fields between and behind the buildings, but now I travel through countryside....
Apart from the weather, the month seems to have been packed with meals with friends, here and away; and a fund-raising quiz one evening - mostly about TV programmes, which was amusing as only 2 out of our team of 6 had a television and one couple are South African and not familiar with British TV programmes. Then there was a breakfast - where we talked, non-stop, about deep things in our lives, gaining strength from one another. And school.... reports; a school musical (Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat - it will be awesome); Saturday mornings of entrance assessments, a hockey festival, tag rugby tournament; encouraging 40Acts of kindness at school....
But the joy of the month has been the flowers....
Fun. The dog, of course, hates thunderstorms and presses up closely against us while the thunder peals. Usually, that is. Sometimes she just gets annoyed and goes round the house barking loudly, before she gives up in disgust and climbs back on to the sofa to curl into a small black ball.
Then, mid-month, suddenly SPRING CAME. For a day, initially. The next was back to grey and mist and mizzle and drizzle. And more wind than was on the forecast. But we had a glorious Monday of full sunshine. The daffodils have already been shouting out their glory for several weeks, but now the odd crocus has appeared in the garden, with a shy cyclamen flower struggling up from underneath a stone.
So, now, daffodils have sprung up everywhere. I planted a bagful of bulbs I had brought with me from Barnsfield - by the time I got round to it, in December, the poor bulbs had become fed up with waiting for me and had put their roots out already, becoming hopelessly entangled with each other. It took much soaking in water and gentle pulling to disengage them from each other.
But the bulbs I planted - and which have bloomed so generously - seem like nothing when I see those which are already here. Clumps of green spikes and then yellow flowers have appeared everywhere: under bushes, in 'bare' patches, on top of the grassy hedge banks and even growing out of the vertical sides of the banks themselves. The garden blazes with yellow fire in the sunshine.
There are unusual varieties as well: fragrant narcissi perfume the air from the troughs outside the front door; creamy yellow lacy trumpets hide behind the nerines; on the banks, I see bright yellow outer calyxes with deep orange tubular centres: the aptly named and unusual Will Scarlet, perhaps. Other narcissi are the ubiquitous creamy pale thick clusters:
So the daffodils have been a welcome brightener in a month dogged by fog. I like it, myself: I love the silence, the deadening of sound, which the fog brings. Even the traffic sounds quiet and of course the planes do not fly... and there is something eerily beautiful about the mist:
Apart from the weather, the month seems to have been packed with meals with friends, here and away; and a fund-raising quiz one evening - mostly about TV programmes, which was amusing as only 2 out of our team of 6 had a television and one couple are South African and not familiar with British TV programmes. Then there was a breakfast - where we talked, non-stop, about deep things in our lives, gaining strength from one another. And school.... reports; a school musical (Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat - it will be awesome); Saturday mornings of entrance assessments, a hockey festival, tag rugby tournament; encouraging 40Acts of kindness at school....
But the joy of the month has been the flowers....
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| Hyacinths in blue by the front door |
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| Unusual daffodils from the garden in my tiny Kitengela glass jug |
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| Unique daffodils from a friend chime in with my Mother's Day creamy white primula |
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| And then there were the Amaryllis.... |
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| And finally....the warmth and the sun return, bringing bright mornings.... |
Thursday, 23 May 2013
Frrrrrog Chasing
Pickle loves the summer. Huge opportunities to spend a lot of time outdoors, discovering all kinds of exciting creatures and unusual smells.
A plump rabbit sitting outside the back door in the early morning is just asking to be chased.
A hedgehog, struggling up and down the pond, invites derision and annoyance. The animal in question is not designed for swimming, however elegant its hedgehog-paddle might be.
Beetles crawling through the grass are a source of fascination. So are ants and bumble bees.
As for the large frog, which had the temerity to leap into the pond right under her nose....well, she couldn't let it get away with that:
A plump rabbit sitting outside the back door in the early morning is just asking to be chased.
A hedgehog, struggling up and down the pond, invites derision and annoyance. The animal in question is not designed for swimming, however elegant its hedgehog-paddle might be.
Beetles crawling through the grass are a source of fascination. So are ants and bumble bees.
As for the large frog, which had the temerity to leap into the pond right under her nose....well, she couldn't let it get away with that:
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| Investigating the pond during a playdate with Howie... |
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| ...needs a deep and thorough search for that elusive amphibian... |
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| ...which ends up really tiring. Aaahh.... |
Friday, 7 December 2012
No...vember!
Where did November go? Washed away in fog, gales and torrential rain. Driving home one night, we crawled through the lanes as the rain lashed down, reducing visibility to just a few yards. Flights were delayed or cancelled and my bike barely saw the light of day some weeks. WEATHER!
In many ways, I barely noticed. The pace at school accelerated to breakneck as we struggled to get reports written (8,500 words) and parents meetings (more than 6 hours in total, spread over 2 evenings on the same week of report deadlines) fitted in. Add to that the start of the build-up to Christmas!
Inbetween, I fitted in the breakfast I host every month for a small group of wonderful friends. Brilliant to get together over the croissants and share our lives as we follow Jesus. We're even in touch on facebook as we are part of an online Bible study with Good Morning Girls. Then there was school open day; catching up with old friends; coffees and lunches; and, of course, Pickle's weekly playdate with her best friend Boston Terrier Howie and a walk on the beach.
It seemed as if November passed me by: yet it was an unusually packed month. Certainly NOT a non-event!
In many ways, I barely noticed. The pace at school accelerated to breakneck as we struggled to get reports written (8,500 words) and parents meetings (more than 6 hours in total, spread over 2 evenings on the same week of report deadlines) fitted in. Add to that the start of the build-up to Christmas!
Inbetween, I fitted in the breakfast I host every month for a small group of wonderful friends. Brilliant to get together over the croissants and share our lives as we follow Jesus. We're even in touch on facebook as we are part of an online Bible study with Good Morning Girls. Then there was school open day; catching up with old friends; coffees and lunches; and, of course, Pickle's weekly playdate with her best friend Boston Terrier Howie and a walk on the beach.
It seemed as if November passed me by: yet it was an unusually packed month. Certainly NOT a non-event!
Monday, 4 June 2012
Pickle performs
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| 'Down!' |
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| 'Praise the Lord!' |
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| 'Let's dance!' |
Sunday, 27 May 2012
Pickle and the pond
Friends have a beautiful pond with decorative antique glass floats adding an intriguing touch. We have some of these lovely fishing floats, too, so thought we'd add them. Pickle did NOT approve...
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| Aargh! Scary scary scary... |
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| What on earth could this monster be? |
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| Don't like the look of his eyes... |
Saturday, 10 March 2012
Oh dear...but life goes on.
Lots of good news...Pickle chewed the microphone cable in two. Yes, it's good news. It didn't do any harm (apart from rendering the microphone unusable and so we can't talk on Skype until we have a new one). She could have chewed on the high voltage heating cable lying next to it.
A healthy family, busy doing rewarding jobs - including Richard, back flying after nearly 8 months.
Entertaining weather. THICK THICK fog - literally, pea soup; bright warm sunshine, picnic weather; torrential rain of tropical proportions, roads and paths becoming rivers and streams.
Entertaining.
But...Pickle does get herself in a pickle.
The last couple of weeks has seen:
4 shoes - aka 2 pairs - chewed.
Countless tennis balls ripped down to baldness.
1 pot hyacinth bulbs dug up.
1 garden 'lost' in - as in 'What? You're calling me? I can't have heard you...'
Hmmm....
Wish I could train her as well as this Jack Russell...
However, she does have very exciting playdates with Howie the Boston Terrier...
A healthy family, busy doing rewarding jobs - including Richard, back flying after nearly 8 months.
Entertaining weather. THICK THICK fog - literally, pea soup; bright warm sunshine, picnic weather; torrential rain of tropical proportions, roads and paths becoming rivers and streams.
Entertaining.
But...Pickle does get herself in a pickle.
The last couple of weeks has seen:
4 shoes - aka 2 pairs - chewed.
Countless tennis balls ripped down to baldness.
1 pot hyacinth bulbs dug up.
1 garden 'lost' in - as in 'What? You're calling me? I can't have heard you...'
Hmmm....
Wish I could train her as well as this Jack Russell...
However, she does have very exciting playdates with Howie the Boston Terrier...
 |
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Pickle's capers
Just when I thought there was no more new news about Pickle and her pursuit of pleasure - this happened:
She found it on the beach. Carried it home. Traffic stopped. Strangers smiled. So did we.
Then this:
(The answer to 'How DID she get caught in the wood basket' is that she was trying to grab the last little log hiding at the bottom...the log escaped, this time.)
Then this: toy no.3 on its way to annihilation...
...replaced by toy no.4. Which proved a match for her.
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| A crab claw. Yes, it really is much bigger than her head... |
Then this:
(The answer to 'How DID she get caught in the wood basket' is that she was trying to grab the last little log hiding at the bottom...the log escaped, this time.)
Then this: toy no.3 on its way to annihilation...
Added to all these antics is her earnest desire to learn computer skills... she watches the movement of the mouse quite avidly and then tries typing on the keyboard...
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Pickle begins to grow up...?
Changes, as with most things in life, happen imperceptibly. So it was with some astonishment that we noticed the following developments in our little Pickle recently.
1. She has lost her puppy teeth! Those razor sharp little nippers have been replaced by proper Big Dog teeth. She still mouths us, but with, generally, less effect. Where did those baby teeth go? Judging by the amount of gnawing and chewing going on, I would have expected to find at least one or two scattered around the house.
2. She has filled out, becoming less weasel-like and chunkier. She feels heavier, more solid, more.... more....more... DOG-like. Puppy fat never came into the question with this slim little lady - more like puppy thinness. Anyway, she looks - and feels - much more like a Real Dog now. The nickname 'Weasel' is no longer quite so appropriate, though Jonny will probably still be calling her that the next time he comes home.
3. Her coat is no longer puppy-smooth and soft, but thicker, more rough-haired. The whiskers are still pronounced but now there are ruffles appearing on her back -which sound more fashionable than they look.
4. She seems 'taller' when she stretches up on her hind legs. Stop right there, Pickle - we don't need you any bigger than this.
5. Puppy chewing has turned into adolescent destruction. All her soft toys have now been completely disembowelled. The ferocity and dedication with which she has done this has been quite alarming - teenage angst and determination. (I don't want to use the S word - as in stubborn.)
6. She now has her first (boy) friend. Howie, a Boston Terrier who is just a month older, comes round to play regularly. After an inauspicious start (Pickle's response to a canine intruder on 'her' turf was to try to take him out) the two now enjoy each other's company. 'Play' consists of non-stop wrestling in one black and white messy ball of fur, teeth and paws, interspersed with brief panting rests and top-speed chases round the garden. They keep this up for HOURS.
Some things, however, don't change.
She is still incredibly feisty, especially in the mornings. Dancing for attention, racing around the garden, trying to nip - the vinegar-and-water spray is so effective in deterring her from doing this that we only have to glance meaningfully at the bottle.
She still sits very nicely on command.
She still objects to the 'halti' which encourages her to walk properly.
She is still intrigued by new things and is still afraid of sudden noises.
She is still beautifully calm and soft in the evenings, being quite happy to curl up companionably next to us.
Still delightful.
1. She has lost her puppy teeth! Those razor sharp little nippers have been replaced by proper Big Dog teeth. She still mouths us, but with, generally, less effect. Where did those baby teeth go? Judging by the amount of gnawing and chewing going on, I would have expected to find at least one or two scattered around the house.
2. She has filled out, becoming less weasel-like and chunkier. She feels heavier, more solid, more.... more....more... DOG-like. Puppy fat never came into the question with this slim little lady - more like puppy thinness. Anyway, she looks - and feels - much more like a Real Dog now. The nickname 'Weasel' is no longer quite so appropriate, though Jonny will probably still be calling her that the next time he comes home.
3. Her coat is no longer puppy-smooth and soft, but thicker, more rough-haired. The whiskers are still pronounced but now there are ruffles appearing on her back -which sound more fashionable than they look.
4. She seems 'taller' when she stretches up on her hind legs. Stop right there, Pickle - we don't need you any bigger than this.
5. Puppy chewing has turned into adolescent destruction. All her soft toys have now been completely disembowelled. The ferocity and dedication with which she has done this has been quite alarming - teenage angst and determination. (I don't want to use the S word - as in stubborn.)
6. She now has her first (boy) friend. Howie, a Boston Terrier who is just a month older, comes round to play regularly. After an inauspicious start (Pickle's response to a canine intruder on 'her' turf was to try to take him out) the two now enjoy each other's company. 'Play' consists of non-stop wrestling in one black and white messy ball of fur, teeth and paws, interspersed with brief panting rests and top-speed chases round the garden. They keep this up for HOURS.
Some things, however, don't change.
She is still incredibly feisty, especially in the mornings. Dancing for attention, racing around the garden, trying to nip - the vinegar-and-water spray is so effective in deterring her from doing this that we only have to glance meaningfully at the bottle.
She still sits very nicely on command.
She still objects to the 'halti' which encourages her to walk properly.
She is still intrigued by new things and is still afraid of sudden noises.
She is still beautifully calm and soft in the evenings, being quite happy to curl up companionably next to us.
Still delightful.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Pickle is a pickle
It's been quite hard becoming a puppy
parent again. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever been a real puppy parent:
most of the dogs I've had have arrived at the ripe age of 8 months or older.
Whatever, it's a) time-consuming and b) wearing on the nerves.
I'm sure there are c) d) and e)
points as well.
So we've been reading up on puppy
training quite assiduously. Pickle's report card might look like this:
Response to name:
Attainment: A*
Effort: Superb
Pickle enjoys attention and responds
immediately when her name is called.
Come here!
Attainment: B
Effort: Satisfactory
So far, so good. This command has
not yet been thoroughly tested in situations of high interest ie in wide open
spaces where there are unlimited opportunities for interesting smells.
Digging holes.
Attainment: A
Effort: Excellent
Pickle has demonstrated tremendous
energy in acquiring this skill. She has excelled in creating holes of both
width and depth. She now needs to learn where is an appropriate place to dig,
as the middle of the lawn is definitely NOT suitable. Willingness to fill
in a hole once it has been finished with would also be appreciated.
Jumping up.
Attainment: D
Effort: Sometimes satisfactory
Pickle is being trained in the art
of greeting. This should consist of sitting politely in front of the family
member or guest, then waiting to be stroked or hugged. Unfortunately, although
Pickle is able to sit quite beautifully, she has not so far proved herself
willing to accede to requests to 'sit' in situations where she would rather
leap about in a hysterical manner. We look forward to seeing her develop
greater self-control.
Sitting.
Attainment: A*
Effort: Excellent
Pickle's sitting is absolutely
exemplary and is a joy to behold. Well done, Pickle!
Fetch
Attainment: A
Effort: Excellent
Although she does not yet 'give' on
command, Pickle readily retrieves a ball thrown for her. She is beginning to
learn that releasing the ball to the handler results in further pleasurable
games of 'fetch'.
Phew.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
News from the Pickle front
It's been quiet on here about Pickle lately.
She hasn't. Been quiet, that is. Except that she does seem to be quietly growing.
I think. She still looks quite tiny to me.
Her days are filled with wondrous things.
Flies are especially fascinating. She found a bluebottle the other day. By the time I noticed, she had the bluebottle gently between her front paws, batting it backwards and forwards or alternately nosing it.
Presumably it died, eventually. I don't know if it was eaten, but it wouldn't surprise me.
Latest obsession is crane flies. She spends hours tracking their progress round the room. Statue still, her eyes never wander.
As for other things - we dissuade her from trying to chew the furniture, or catching at trouser legs for attention as we walk past. She demolishes fir cones on a regular basis.
But learning is going well.
She fetches a ball with alacrity and knows how to 'give' it for another go. (Not that she 'gives' very often - she loves to tease. But she's learning.)
She is beginning to walk nicely on the lead. Usually.
House training - getting there. Slowly.
She still falls in the pond - occasionally. We realise she has done it when she starts tearing round the house, rolling on the sofa, wriggling on the carpet in an effort to dry off quickly. Subtle.
After all that activity, evenings are spent limp and relaxed until bedtime. A scarily quick change of personality from completely feisty to totally chilled.
Or Pickled.
She hasn't. Been quiet, that is. Except that she does seem to be quietly growing.
I think. She still looks quite tiny to me.
Her days are filled with wondrous things.
Flies are especially fascinating. She found a bluebottle the other day. By the time I noticed, she had the bluebottle gently between her front paws, batting it backwards and forwards or alternately nosing it.
Presumably it died, eventually. I don't know if it was eaten, but it wouldn't surprise me.
Latest obsession is crane flies. She spends hours tracking their progress round the room. Statue still, her eyes never wander.
As for other things - we dissuade her from trying to chew the furniture, or catching at trouser legs for attention as we walk past. She demolishes fir cones on a regular basis.
But learning is going well.
She fetches a ball with alacrity and knows how to 'give' it for another go. (Not that she 'gives' very often - she loves to tease. But she's learning.)
She is beginning to walk nicely on the lead. Usually.
House training - getting there. Slowly.
She still falls in the pond - occasionally. We realise she has done it when she starts tearing round the house, rolling on the sofa, wriggling on the carpet in an effort to dry off quickly. Subtle.
After all that activity, evenings are spent limp and relaxed until bedtime. A scarily quick change of personality from completely feisty to totally chilled.
Or Pickled.
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Pickle is a...
Hem grabber
Ball nabber
Tail chaser
Step racer
Step racer
Water slurper
Belly burper
Belly burper
Eye roller
Garden holer
Stick chewer
Bone hewer
Plant stealer
Potato peeler
Hand nipper
Rug ripper
Fir-cone gnawer
Toy hauler
Teeth snapper
Little yapper
Shin bruiser
Sofa snoozer
Soft snorer
Persistent pawer
Stick chewer
Bone hewer
Plant stealer
Potato peeler
Hand nipper
Rug ripper
Fir-cone gnawer
Toy hauler
Teeth snapper
Little yapper
Shin bruiser
Sofa snoozer
Soft snorer
Persistent pawer
Morning smiler
Heart delighter.
Pickle!
Pickle!
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Friday, 16 September 2011
Pickle's present
NO, we are NOT besotted with our new dog. Every post in the recent past might be about her, but that is just because she is the most exciting thing happening at the moment. Honestly.
Receiving a card from my dear friend Ruth which said 'CONGRATULATIONS on your NEW ARRIVAL' and 'Enjoy the precious moments with your new bundle of joy' was just a joke. Or so I thought, until she turned up with a beautifully wrapped present 'for Pickle-Lilla with love from Aunty Ruth and Uncle Graham xxx'. Then I started to wonder if I had, perhaps, chatted about our puppy just a little too often.
On the other hand, Ruth is a wonderfully warm, kind-hearted and empathetic friend who just loves to do good wherever or whenever she can. This was one of those occasions...
We hid it at bedtime.
Receiving a card from my dear friend Ruth which said 'CONGRATULATIONS on your NEW ARRIVAL' and 'Enjoy the precious moments with your new bundle of joy' was just a joke. Or so I thought, until she turned up with a beautifully wrapped present 'for Pickle-Lilla with love from Aunty Ruth and Uncle Graham xxx'. Then I started to wonder if I had, perhaps, chatted about our puppy just a little too often.
On the other hand, Ruth is a wonderfully warm, kind-hearted and empathetic friend who just loves to do good wherever or whenever she can. This was one of those occasions...
 |
| The parcel contained a squeaky toy |
 |
| ...so delightful... |
 |
| bliss. |
Wednesday, 14 September 2011
Pickle's progress - some statistics...
7 chewed fircones
6 plant pots emptied, then batted and bowled around the lawn
5 small succulents left lying soil-less and desolate
4 balls (one old tennis ball, one small football and three still-bouncy tennis balls) played with
3 small puppy-sized meals eaten
2 adults loved to pieces
1 sofa sat on.
Hard to tell what was the most fun...
6 plant pots emptied, then batted and bowled around the lawn
5 small succulents left lying soil-less and desolate
4 balls (one old tennis ball, one small football and three still-bouncy tennis balls) played with
3 small puppy-sized meals eaten
2 adults loved to pieces
1 sofa sat on.
Hard to tell what was the most fun...
Monday, 12 September 2011
A busy day...
Lilla Pickle - who thought an invitation to sit on my lap meant that SHE could type this post - is proving to be a fascinating addition to our hitherto quiet and calm household.
She RARELY sits still.
We had forgotten that a puppy is like a super-active toddler. You can't take your eyes off her for a minute. The garden is well dog-proofed, so she is safe to wander around outside, but the list of attractive Objects For Chewing grows longer by the day. So far, we have had to remove socks (from our feet), rugs from the floor (fringes just beg to be tasted) and washing from clothes airers (far too tempting). A small stool suffered from leg chewing, her soft toy has already been stitched up in the operating theatre and the waste paper basket is living on borrowed time.
She has a special bone we bought her to exercise her sharp little teeth on. She ignores it. We have had to take serious measures to step up the intensity of No Nipping training.
The most popular toy - even better than fir cones - is a small terracotta flower pot. She has growled at it, buried her nose in it, rolled it around and tossed it in the air.
HOURS of entertainment.
And she's still thinking about the pond - she has fallen in 4 times so far. And counting.
It IS very beautiful and fascinating.
Add to all this, several frantic games round the garden at top speed...early night tonight! (For me, that is: Pickle still seems to have LOTS of energy...)
PS I haven't even mentioned noise - an endless source of curiosity. Aeroplanes are interesting, low-flying wood pigeons scary. The noise a radiator makes when you paw it is intriguing; a vacuum cleaner is quite frightening... it won't be long before footsteps and car engines become recognisable...
She RARELY sits still.
We had forgotten that a puppy is like a super-active toddler. You can't take your eyes off her for a minute. The garden is well dog-proofed, so she is safe to wander around outside, but the list of attractive Objects For Chewing grows longer by the day. So far, we have had to remove socks (from our feet), rugs from the floor (fringes just beg to be tasted) and washing from clothes airers (far too tempting). A small stool suffered from leg chewing, her soft toy has already been stitched up in the operating theatre and the waste paper basket is living on borrowed time.
She has a special bone we bought her to exercise her sharp little teeth on. She ignores it. We have had to take serious measures to step up the intensity of No Nipping training.
The most popular toy - even better than fir cones - is a small terracotta flower pot. She has growled at it, buried her nose in it, rolled it around and tossed it in the air.
And she's still thinking about the pond - she has fallen in 4 times so far. And counting.
PS I haven't even mentioned noise - an endless source of curiosity. Aeroplanes are interesting, low-flying wood pigeons scary. The noise a radiator makes when you paw it is intriguing; a vacuum cleaner is quite frightening... it won't be long before footsteps and car engines become recognisable...
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