We'll be back in a week !

They stunk to high heaven, were brittle and studded with peppercorns. They were also 100% dried meat with none of the crap that is put into treats you get here. And, of course, Mrs B absolutely loved them. As we humans were worried about the brittle texture and risk of choking, attempts were made to ensure that Bitey chewed them properly bit by bit. Not a prayer. Mrs B wolfed them down in a frenzy of crunching and gulping topped off with a loud gut wrenching belch.

One of the great things about our canine friends is that they live for the moment and don’t worry about either past or future. The downside of this is that they don’t think about consequences. Once she tried these new delicacies, Mrs B was like Oliver Twist – she wanted more!

Mrs B is extremely hard to ignore or resist and her employment of hardcore scrounging tactics resulted in her having rather a lot of gourmet treats. The by product of this was not evident until the following day when she was afflicted with a bout of the World’s Worst Wind. She also needed to go out for ablutions slightly more frequently.

Which is why we were staggering around the block bleary eyed at 5.30am this morning. Whilst I would have preferred to have remained in bed oblivious to the world, I did get an unexpected treat myself. The flight path over my home was not used this morning so for once there was complete silence with no mechanical 747 birds flying over. The real birds therefore could strike up their morning chorus uninterupted and sang their little feathered hearts out. It has been a very long time since I’ve heard such a beautiful dawn chorus and I am blessed to have heard it.

Even if it was a flatulent Jack Russell that woke me up….

As it is half term, the dog park has been devoid of dogs and thankfully we have been spared the gauntlet run of the snob convoy. It’s been quite nice to not have small town, small minded snobbery from the nouvelle riche.

However, it’ll be good to see some familiar and friendly (ish) faces in the park. So far we’ve only seen a toffee nosed twit with standard issue chocolate labrador and matching Land Rover who was terribly pleasantly condesending to Mrs B. You could imagine him thinking how pitifully sad it must be to be a non pedigree breed. Imagine the horror of it all.

We had a final snow walk before heading off although the snow was starting its soggy retreating melt. For once, we’d timed it just right as it was softer for terrier paws to run on but consistant enough to avoid being ankle deep in mud.

I’m going to miss the common land greatly as it is such a vast open space devoid of squirrels, sheep and other things that Mrs Bitey enjoys chasing. The views are amazing and the beauty of it is that you can always seek a small spot of solitude and silence if you want to. Going back to the dog park will be a come down for both of us but there it is. Even the bigger parks like Richmond and Bushey up here are not the same- they have tons of traffic shortcutting for starters and deer and a million other people and dogs looking for a patch of peace. However, the offset to all of this is that I still enjoy living here and have the people that I am lucky enough to call friends around me.

Give us a couple of days and we’ll be back to normal again

So it was with mixed feelings that we headed off to the common land to play ball today. I had visions of Mrs B refusing to get out of the car and me going for a solitary walk instead.

Such fears were dispelled within seconds of driving onto the common. There was a cacophony of squeaking, squealing and barking accompanied by frenzied tail wagging and pawing the car window. Once stationary, I barely had time to retrieve the keys from the ignition and don thermal hat and gloves before being kicked and trampled on in a manic bid to get out now!

I don’t blame her. The common looked even more beautiful than ever. To the East, light cloud reflected light off it in a thin blue and pink stripe that slashed across the sky. Looking West towards the Severn Estuary, moody dark grey clouds looked surly. Trees and bushes were stark and skeletal in contrast to the endless carpet of crisp white snow and underfoot it was like walking on royal icing.

It was also unbelievably cold with a bitter breeze seeking out any exposed flesh instantly. Underestimating the temperature, I’d not put Mrs B in her jacket, but this did not seem to bother her in the slightest.

Her antics chasing and hunting with her ball are already well documented here in dog blog land and I cannot add much to previous descriptions other than to note that she seemed even faster in her all action sprinting with one reckless cornering episode leading to a spectacular loss of balance , sending her spinning and rolling into a snow drift.

An added comic touch was her snout coated in snow and her rather refined technique of shaking excess snow off the ball before returning it to me. Had she not been snorting and belching snowflakes, I’d have mistaken her for a proper little lady!

Good to see my all action Bitey having such a riotous time

Norovirus is not nice. It’s painful, explosive and leaves you feeling like a herd of buffalo have charged across your abdomen. It’s a full house of unpleasant symptom bingo- pyrexia, joint pain, fatigue, cramps, vomiting and diahorrea. It’s the last thing that you want after surgery.

Thankfully, our canine friends appear unaffected so while I have been doubled up over a basin or sweating ice under layers of blankets, Mrs Bitey has been delegated as Charge Nurse.

As it goes, there are some benefits to terrier nurses. Firstly, they are generally cheerful and sociable souls that don’t seem to mind being with a cranky groaning human. In fact, Mrs B has been quite sympathetic, giving me the odd sniff or prod to make sure I’m alive and cuddling up against my cramping stomach which is very soothing. She is also the storage heater of the dog world and can belt out tons of heat. An added plus is that curling up under a duvet is a perfectly acceptable way for Bitey to while away a few hours.

Mrs B has also been very tolerant of my lack of mobility. Our playtime on the common land was abruptly terminated when the full extent of the bug dramatically kicked in and since then she has been limited to shorter and far more sedate strolls out with Granny supplemented with various boisterous games of Kong chasing, again with Granny who is able to doze in the chair, watch daytime tv and play Kong in a fabulous feat of pensioner multitasking.

Granny, and all other old people for that matter, find Bitey charms very difficult to resist, especially in the giving of treats, and so Mrs B has cashed in on this unrelentingly.

However, before you fully form the vision of Bitey Nightingale tending the sick without fault or foible, let me burst the bubble ever so slightly…

All nursing empathy and care goes out of the window once Mrs B gets comfortable in or on the bed. Territorial and stubborn, she continues to hog the bed and kick me if I move. She believes that the extra hot water bottle is for her benefit and as she is spending long hours on the bed, has decided to customise it by hiding half chewed rawhide bones and soggy Kong toys under the duvet. Nice.

When she decides that I should be awake, she jumps on my head and licks my face, ears or neck. She licks my feet or the back of my knees in the hope that it will get me moving. It does as it tickles like mad and is the last thing I need after finally getting comfortable.

The worst is when I have to vomit as she takes the vile retching noises that ensue as an invitation to play and comes barrelling into the bathroom trying to get into the sick bowl and bounce off my shoulders while madly growling and barking. A sedate variation of this is to sit on my feet and refuse to move so that she has a grandstand view of my head in the bowl. She has narrowly avoided being barfed on several times now.

But the lovely thing is, annoying though she can be, I know that she thinks that she is doing the right thing and is trying to help. It cannot be much fun trying to sleep with a feverish, groaning heap retching and fidgeting but Mrs B has been determined to stay with me.

Doggy devotion or what?

On that occasion, she loved it. She tried to catch snow flakes and sniffed madly. She dug, snorted, rolled and burrowed in it and ended up with a very snowy snout. After that we endured weeks of slippery compacted snow and ice which was fine for paws with claws but not so for human feet in boots. The shining surface was akin to skating rink ice as I found out one evening when Bitey spotted a fox, charged after it dragging me in her wake floundering around in a gravity defying attempt to stay upright. (I succeeded just).

We also had boisterous games of ‘Search and Rescue’ when the ball landed in deep snow drifts. We had a 100% success rate at this and much mirth was had as Mrs B sunk up to her armpits in snow and I had that freezing trickle around my ankles when the snow managed somehow to get down inside my boots.

This time around however, the snow visit has been short and sweet. I don’t know whether it was because it was much windier, it didn’t stay long or deep enough to be interesting or whether it was because she didn’t have her coat on but whatever the reason, Mrs B refused to venture beyond the back door other than to have a hasty wee and run back in again. I can’t say that I am too gutted- I have escaped sub zero gale force snow walks- but I have missed the general mania and hilarity that only a Jack Russell in snow can create.

They missed a treat as it was fabulous – brilliant blue sky and sun lighting up an endless expanse of green. The muddy bits had frozen over, the ground was crunchy and the air icy crisp.

But I’m not complaining at the lack of people as it meant that Mrs Bitey and I had the common to ourselves, a vast, rolling private play park. No fear of fighting or balls being stolen and best of all, no one to stare at us when we got excited.

As I have said before, a big part of being a dog parent is the willingness to make a tit of yourself by throwing yourself noisily and enthusiatically into play to make it interesting and fun for the four legged one. Today was great as we had total liberty to shout, laugh, bark and make a general noise whilst playing ball. As Mrs B leapt over a ridge with all four paws in the air then cornered tightly around a bush, it oddly reminded me of a chase scene in 1980s high octane police drama ‘The Professionals’.

Yes, if you are of a certain age, you will no doubt remember the Professionals. Fast moving, rugged, action packed, high speed chasing throbbing pulp drama (and that was just the car!) with the delicious macho combo of Bodie (ding dong!) and Doyle taming a lawless London in a silver Ford Capri. Crusty old Cowley the boss was the wily celtic brains of the operation, reigning in the boys whose idea of community policing was to run the bad guys off the road in dramatic style (why did the baddies always drive a Triumph Dolomite btw?), haul them out of the motor, throw them onto the bonnet, slap on the cuffs and give them a good kicking before bawling ‘You’re nicked sunshine, you’re goin’ daaaannnnn’.

I’m not suggesting that Mrs Bitey looks or sounds like a Ford Capri, Bodie, Doyle or Cowley for that matter, but the way that she sped about conjured up the phrase ‘All Action’ which is how the TV Times always used to describe the Professionals.

Yes, it was ‘The All Action Cop Drama The Professionals’ that popped up in my head and looking at Mrs B sprinting, cornering, diving, rolling and jumping today, I could only describe her as an ‘All Action Jack Russell’.

And so, as it was just the two of us, I pretended (rather well) to be Crusty Cowley and Mrs B was a rather furry All Action Capri in a high speed chase with a fugative who just happened to be a ball on a rope. And I sang the theme tune very loudly as well.

Canine Division

Last night it was very cold in the Shire and Bitey, Ma C and me were all ensconced in the lounge enjoying the warmth of the fire. There is an ancient and extremely comfortable recliner chair next to the radiator which is everyone’s favourite seat because it is so warm and expansive.

Unsurprisingly, Mrs B has taken a liking to the chair.

Ma C also has a liking for the chair and moved said dog out of the way to claim ownership although Mrs B remained squeezed into the side of the chair. Ma C didn’t mind this as Bitey is exceptionally warm. However, as the evening progressed, Mrs B began to retake the throne.

It started with subtle prods and kicks with her back legs. Then some squirming to try to manouver behind so that she could boot Ma C out of the seat. When this failed, Mrs Bitey feigned heat stroke and began panting but refused to move an inch. The panting got worse and worse and Mrs B went from a refusal to seemingly being unable to move. In the end, Ma C got a bit concerned and stood up in an attempt to encourage Bitey to get down and cool off. Wrong move.

Within seconds, the panting has magically disappeared and Mrs Bitey had swung around lying across the full length of the chair with her paws stretched out as far as they could go ready to ward off any attempts of anyone else sitting down with a hefty kick.

So Ma C was relegated to the sofa and Mrs B reclined regally, occasionally deigning to glance up to give a gloating smirk.

And if that isn’t the behaviour of a spoilt doggy diva, then I don’t know what is.

I visited a friend recently who has a pair of terrier tearaways. Mrs B had to stay in the car glaring reproachfully at me. When I returned smelling of rival jack russell I was sniffed at then very pointedly ignored. Oh dear.

The mutts are are mother and puppy. Mum is a very pretty jack russell whippet cross and pup also has parson jack russell in her.

They are a delightful pair, charging around play scrapping over toys and chewy bones. The rest of the puppy litter have gone to new homes and are all fine fellas I’m told.

Mummy dog really took to motherhood and has changed for the better with it. She has always been super cute but pre pregnancy was a very neurotic princess. She is now much calmer, affectionate and satisfied with her lot.

Pup is beautiful and knows it. She has supermodel looks and combines manic play with cuddly cute moments effortlessly. I very much enjoyed my cuddle with her.

All the puppies came with brilliant names- Macduff, Attila, Horatio, Nelson, Hercules etc- and I love the rationale behind the names. Macduff is so called so that her Scottish family can cry ‘lead on Macduff’ when they are going for walkies. The others were given big strong names to reflect the huge personalities inside tiny terrier bodies.

What wonderful sentiments (and very cute dogs too)