I don't know what he's done, or how he did it. In fact, I don't even know what it is. All I know is, Henry has done himself an injury. Again. He has spent most of this week hobbling up and down the stairs like a geriatric sloth, looking mournful, sitting by the sofa looking mournful as he found himself lacking the spring needed to get onto it, looking mournful, forgetting temporarily to look mournful and leaping about, yelping, then slinking over to me and looking mournful, and looking mournful about not being allowed off the lead.
I have spent most of the week worrying, manipulating all his limbs, worrying, debating on whether or not to take him to the vets, worrying, making him get up and pootle up and down the corridor every few hours to stop him seizing up, and worrying.
Fortunately he is now staging a recovery. This is fortunate, because if I had spent months doing physio exercises to make sure I can go walking next weekend only to have it scuppered by the damn dog, I would have sunk into a decline.
Friday, 20 May 2011
Monday, 18 April 2011
Return of the Masked Picnic Raider
As you read this, think of it as being a bit like a therapy session for me. Pull up a chair, perch your glasses on the end of your nose, and assume your most soothing bedside manner, and please do excuse any gibbering on my part. I am sure that in a decade or so, I'll be absolutely fine again.
So, on Saturday I had a nice family day out at a game fair. In fact all of this can be laid firmly at the door of my family. It's all their fault, nowt to do with me, guv...
Henry was veeery excited to be there, and in fact was a bit of a handful. Happily, he did start to settle a bit after a while - which is when my step-dad and step-brother came hurrying over to suggest - nay demand - that we should have a run in the gundog scurry. They had been watching a few of the competitors have mishaps, and were certain that Henry could beat the competition and win a shiny new car in the process.
Yes, that is this Henry here.
Yes, I know. A scurry champion he is not. But you know, I thought we might have a little go at the novice scurry. Seemed like a nice idea, the fencing looked escape-proof, it was very much about having a go and it was a nice, marked, double retrieve that under normal circumstances Henry would have found easy-peasy.
So the nice man took our entry, and the nice lady threw out two dummies. And Henry, bless him, shot straight over to the first one and grabbed it. OK, he then took it on a lap of honour before he brought it back. But, you know, that's still an improvement on the last time we did this, so so far, so good.
Then I sent him back for the next dummy. He was a bit overwhelmed by all the exciting things going on around the arena, so he ran past it a few times. Then - then it all went a tiny, tiny bit wrong. It all seemed fine at first. There was a family sitting on the floor outside the arena, and Henry seemed to be making friends with them.
Of course, those of you that have read other posts on this blog, or indeed who have met Henry, can probably guess what was really happening. In fact, you have probably abandoned your calming manner and are most likely screaming a dreadful warning at the screen. And you are right. Yes, that family were having a very nice picnic, with a lovely wicker hamper and little triangular sandwiches with the crusts cut off, all laid out on a plate, right up to the point when a dirty great spaniel stuck his head through the fence and relieved them of their lunch (although, is the Novice (i.e. half-trained hooligan) scurry really the best place to have a picnic?!). The realisation of what was happening hit both me and the lady throwing the dummies at the same time, and we both arrived with Henry at once to remove him from the crime scene. Henry then completed his performance by finding the other dummy, and taking it out of the arena, to my mum who was, in all fairness, probably quite interesting due to the fact that she was shrieking with laughter (thanks Mum). We then left the arena, although not before we had been given a cheer by all those watching. We may not have been the fastest entry, but we were probably the most entertaining.
I have been having flashbacks all weekend, but I'm sure they'll clear up in a year or two. When that happens please do remind me of this before I enter another scurry. Unless we're going in as a novelty act that is.
So, on Saturday I had a nice family day out at a game fair. In fact all of this can be laid firmly at the door of my family. It's all their fault, nowt to do with me, guv...
Henry was veeery excited to be there, and in fact was a bit of a handful. Happily, he did start to settle a bit after a while - which is when my step-dad and step-brother came hurrying over to suggest - nay demand - that we should have a run in the gundog scurry. They had been watching a few of the competitors have mishaps, and were certain that Henry could beat the competition and win a shiny new car in the process.
Yes, that is this Henry here.
Yes, I know. A scurry champion he is not. But you know, I thought we might have a little go at the novice scurry. Seemed like a nice idea, the fencing looked escape-proof, it was very much about having a go and it was a nice, marked, double retrieve that under normal circumstances Henry would have found easy-peasy.
So the nice man took our entry, and the nice lady threw out two dummies. And Henry, bless him, shot straight over to the first one and grabbed it. OK, he then took it on a lap of honour before he brought it back. But, you know, that's still an improvement on the last time we did this, so so far, so good.
Then I sent him back for the next dummy. He was a bit overwhelmed by all the exciting things going on around the arena, so he ran past it a few times. Then - then it all went a tiny, tiny bit wrong. It all seemed fine at first. There was a family sitting on the floor outside the arena, and Henry seemed to be making friends with them.
Of course, those of you that have read other posts on this blog, or indeed who have met Henry, can probably guess what was really happening. In fact, you have probably abandoned your calming manner and are most likely screaming a dreadful warning at the screen. And you are right. Yes, that family were having a very nice picnic, with a lovely wicker hamper and little triangular sandwiches with the crusts cut off, all laid out on a plate, right up to the point when a dirty great spaniel stuck his head through the fence and relieved them of their lunch (although, is the Novice (i.e. half-trained hooligan) scurry really the best place to have a picnic?!). The realisation of what was happening hit both me and the lady throwing the dummies at the same time, and we both arrived with Henry at once to remove him from the crime scene. Henry then completed his performance by finding the other dummy, and taking it out of the arena, to my mum who was, in all fairness, probably quite interesting due to the fact that she was shrieking with laughter (thanks Mum). We then left the arena, although not before we had been given a cheer by all those watching. We may not have been the fastest entry, but we were probably the most entertaining.
I have been having flashbacks all weekend, but I'm sure they'll clear up in a year or two. When that happens please do remind me of this before I enter another scurry. Unless we're going in as a novelty act that is.
Saturday, 9 April 2011
Vets Bills and Haute Couture
Henry has had a mishap, involving another dog that was less than friendly. I took home rather less dog than I took out on that walk. Poor Henry (although if he had listened to me and had come back when I said it never would have happened, but he reckoned he knew best...)
So, one trip to the emergency vets on a Friday night, one rather swift trip to the main surgery, one set of stitches and an overnight stay at the vets later, he's fine and I'm £380 lighter (well, actually Visa is but we won't go into that).
It's nearly healed now as you can see, so I have decided he can go off the lead again, provided the wound is protected in case he decides to, oooh, I don't know, roll in something revolting (surely not).
Enter the Bespoke Patent Stitch Protecting T-shirt!
In fact, I think this could usher in a new career for Henry. Look! He can smize and everything!
So, one trip to the emergency vets on a Friday night, one rather swift trip to the main surgery, one set of stitches and an overnight stay at the vets later, he's fine and I'm £380 lighter (well, actually Visa is but we won't go into that).
It's nearly healed now as you can see, so I have decided he can go off the lead again, provided the wound is protected in case he decides to, oooh, I don't know, roll in something revolting (surely not).
Enter the Bespoke Patent Stitch Protecting T-shirt!
In fact, I think this could usher in a new career for Henry. Look! He can smize and everything!
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Vets bills
They don't come cheap...!
It's ok, Henry is fine (despite his best efforts with the electric fencing at work). However, on a trip to the beach last weekend I noticed him walking strangely after swimming (goose stepping is the best way I can describe it) so when the time came for his regular MOT with the vet it was very much on my mind. Henry has mild hip dysplasia, or at least so I was told when rehoming him, so I do get a bit obsessive about his legs at times. And since we're in the Healthy Pet Club regular checkups are included, so this was the perfect opportunity to mention it and get some advice.
The good news is his hips are ok, he has a good range of movement and is in no pain. The bad news is that he needs more muscle on his back end. The embarrassing Nazi re-enactment was caused by the cold water giving him cramp and nothing more sinister. However the vet did suggest hydrotherapy... and therein lies the issue.
I would love to be able to take Henry for this, but at £20-odd a session with two sessions a week needed to begin with it's just not an option. Insurance won't cover this as it's a pre-existing condition, so we are a bit stuck. The plan is therefore to try and build muscle in other (free!) ways, and get the vet to look again when he has his boosters in 6 months time. In the meantime, he'll just have to swim in the duckpond like all the other dogs!
Finally - here are one or two pics from the beach:
Saturday, 26 February 2011
The canine beautician
The weather here has been vile. I don't know about anyone else, but I am now thoroughly sick of winter. It fulfilled its purpose when the shooting season ended - it now has no purpose, and needs to begone!
As a result, the field where training classes take place is somewhat soggy. I taught a puppy class today (exciting!) and almost went A.O.T. (that's arse over tip) several times... fortunately I kept my feet, I feel landing on the aforementioned A. would have reduced what little authority I had to begin with.
So, when Henry came out of the car, there was a lot of skidding around behind him until he chilled out. This was the first class we had been to since Christmas, so he was very happy to be back, and very keen to get over to Sophia to say hello!
We were doing just fine until he had to sit for a while - he was so keen to get to the treat in my hand that he leapt up to try and pinch it (naughty naughty). As he landed I felt a splash on my face, and the next handler along did say, 'He got you!', but I thought I'd wiped it all off and was confident that my normal, glamorous (hah!) appearance had been restored.
Until I got into the car to drive home, that is.
Because I caught sight of myself in the rear-view mirror.
Can you imagine a sort of human Dalmatian?
That was me. Covered in lumps and splotches of mud, as though I had just ridden round Aintree in the rain.
I did wonder why people kept grinning at me... I suppose at least I noticed before I went into the supermarket!
Hey ho. Spaniels, eh? Bet I wouldn't have had all this bother with a Lab...
As a result, the field where training classes take place is somewhat soggy. I taught a puppy class today (exciting!) and almost went A.O.T. (that's arse over tip) several times... fortunately I kept my feet, I feel landing on the aforementioned A. would have reduced what little authority I had to begin with.
So, when Henry came out of the car, there was a lot of skidding around behind him until he chilled out. This was the first class we had been to since Christmas, so he was very happy to be back, and very keen to get over to Sophia to say hello!
We were doing just fine until he had to sit for a while - he was so keen to get to the treat in my hand that he leapt up to try and pinch it (naughty naughty). As he landed I felt a splash on my face, and the next handler along did say, 'He got you!', but I thought I'd wiped it all off and was confident that my normal, glamorous (hah!) appearance had been restored.
Until I got into the car to drive home, that is.
Because I caught sight of myself in the rear-view mirror.
Can you imagine a sort of human Dalmatian?
That was me. Covered in lumps and splotches of mud, as though I had just ridden round Aintree in the rain.
I did wonder why people kept grinning at me... I suppose at least I noticed before I went into the supermarket!
Hey ho. Spaniels, eh? Bet I wouldn't have had all this bother with a Lab...
Saturday, 19 February 2011
Whoops!
If you're going to teach your dog to sit, then leap up and speed off when you say 'Ready...... steady.......... GO GO GO!'...
And you go dog walking with a friend who has taught their dog something very similar.....
And you end up both doing this trick at the same time....
It's a good idea for one of you to look and make sure the dogs are not facing each other.....
Because if both dogs are spaniels, they will be far too excited to look where they are going when they charge off......
SPLAT!
Bless their little pea brains!
Read a very good book the other day - The Culture Clash by Jean Donaldson. Very interesting look at the way dogs think and learn. Well worth a read!
And you go dog walking with a friend who has taught their dog something very similar.....
And you end up both doing this trick at the same time....
It's a good idea for one of you to look and make sure the dogs are not facing each other.....
Because if both dogs are spaniels, they will be far too excited to look where they are going when they charge off......
SPLAT!
Bless their little pea brains!
Read a very good book the other day - The Culture Clash by Jean Donaldson. Very interesting look at the way dogs think and learn. Well worth a read!
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Shopping
Been shopping for a bridesmaid dress today. Sadly, posh dress shops do not generally welcome smelly spaniels, so as soon as this trip was planned it was clear that Henry was going to have to have a duvet day. Arrangements would have to be made, and Henry would be having a day in with the TV. All that was required was to get past the Spaniel Guilt Trip and out of the door.
So:
Step one: arrange shopping trip. Realise that the venue chosen (Bicester Outlet Village) is a 3 hour drive away. Contact Henry's official biographer (no really, Henry is in Tom's latest book!) to see if he is up for a bit of light dog walking, and receive positive response.
Step two: make special effort to purchase dog's favourite chew bone at supermarket, taking care to select largest one. Ignore woman giving strange look as you weigh one bone in each hand to decide which is the best.
Step three: get up on shopping trip morning, and have bath and select clean and relatively nice clothes instead of putting old clothes on and going for a walk. Try to ignore dog giving disapproving look.
Step four: put on non-dogwalking coat and boots. Suddenly find steps being dogged by dog. Try to explain why he is going to have to stay at home, then realise that a: you are explaining yourself to a dog and b: there is a distinct tone of pleading entering your voice.
Step five: present dog with carefully selected bone. Dog will then bring bone to you and drop it at your feet, then give you a look of disdain at this attempted bribery. Begin explaining self again.
Step six: leave house, attempting to ignore dog's look of complete incredulity that you would do such a thing.
Step seven: spend much of trip switching between wondering whether or not your house is being eaten by vengeful dog, and berating self for allowing life to be run by a creature that rolls in poo for fun.
Apparently, Henry has been on a nine mile walk today. He is not tired, but is having some pretty vivid dreams based on the amount of yipping and twitching going on. The house has not been eaten.
But I am still dress-less...
So:
Step one: arrange shopping trip. Realise that the venue chosen (Bicester Outlet Village) is a 3 hour drive away. Contact Henry's official biographer (no really, Henry is in Tom's latest book!) to see if he is up for a bit of light dog walking, and receive positive response.
Step two: make special effort to purchase dog's favourite chew bone at supermarket, taking care to select largest one. Ignore woman giving strange look as you weigh one bone in each hand to decide which is the best.
Step three: get up on shopping trip morning, and have bath and select clean and relatively nice clothes instead of putting old clothes on and going for a walk. Try to ignore dog giving disapproving look.
Step four: put on non-dogwalking coat and boots. Suddenly find steps being dogged by dog. Try to explain why he is going to have to stay at home, then realise that a: you are explaining yourself to a dog and b: there is a distinct tone of pleading entering your voice.
Step five: present dog with carefully selected bone. Dog will then bring bone to you and drop it at your feet, then give you a look of disdain at this attempted bribery. Begin explaining self again.
Step six: leave house, attempting to ignore dog's look of complete incredulity that you would do such a thing.
Step seven: spend much of trip switching between wondering whether or not your house is being eaten by vengeful dog, and berating self for allowing life to be run by a creature that rolls in poo for fun.
Apparently, Henry has been on a nine mile walk today. He is not tired, but is having some pretty vivid dreams based on the amount of yipping and twitching going on. The house has not been eaten.
But I am still dress-less...
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