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In which I finally get round to posting a couple of pics of the new puppy.
In spite of being the canine equivalent of royalty, and having a silly name (Ragweed's Flanagan) the puppy has turned out to be absolutely delightful. He worships Lucky - who regards him as an irritating nuisance, but okay if kept in his place - and occasionally chases the cats, but they seem to recognise that it isn't meant to be taken seriously, as this picture shows:
Yesterday Lucky AND Flan AND Mephisto were all curled up the bed in front of the stove, but I didn't have my camera to hand. Mowgli for some reason isn't keen on cluster-cuddles. perhaps he's too busy being a tiger:
We had the first halfway spring-like day yesterday and the animals really enjoyed it.
Today, however, was grey and drizzly, so Bexy persuaded us to drive out to watch some Working Tests for labradors. It was just like being back in England - the fields and woods were crawling with dog enthusiasts in Barbour jackets and corduroys and green wellies, sitting on shooting sticks and yacking about bloodlines, except that the yacking was taking place in pure Austrian dialect. It was like watching a Western riding tournament in Europe, where all the riders have stetsons and cowboy boots and most of them have never set foot on American soil. However, I have to say that I've yet to find a sport where the animals involved so obviously enjoyed themselves. Any kind of top level equestrian sport leaves with you the suspicion, if not the conviction, that the animals are being driven to the limits of their endurance, but the dogs were clearly having a whale of a time. One yellow labrador fucked up really badly by constantly misunderstanding what his owner wanted him to do, but in the end he found the dummy and brought it back, looking as pleased as punch, and he got his pat and his "good boy" and clearly thought he'd done a great job.
Bexy had Flan with her, and one man in a waxed cotton hat asked her which breeder he was from. "Stephanie Gfoeller," said Bexy. The man looked sceptical and asked who the parents were. When Bexy said "Echo and Traveller" his jaw dropped. Obviously this funny little bunch of Austrian English-squirearchy-wannabes were the only people in the world who understood the true significance of HRH Flanagan being the offspring of Echo and Traveller, but within this small society, she evidently made a good purchase.
And he really is lovely. He lies down to eat, and he chases his tail, and though he doesn't always come as soon as he's called, he's brilliant at sitting. If they have Sitting Tests, he'll pass with flying colours.
In spite of being the canine equivalent of royalty, and having a silly name (Ragweed's Flanagan) the puppy has turned out to be absolutely delightful. He worships Lucky - who regards him as an irritating nuisance, but okay if kept in his place - and occasionally chases the cats, but they seem to recognise that it isn't meant to be taken seriously, as this picture shows:
Yesterday Lucky AND Flan AND Mephisto were all curled up the bed in front of the stove, but I didn't have my camera to hand. Mowgli for some reason isn't keen on cluster-cuddles. perhaps he's too busy being a tiger:
We had the first halfway spring-like day yesterday and the animals really enjoyed it.
Today, however, was grey and drizzly, so Bexy persuaded us to drive out to watch some Working Tests for labradors. It was just like being back in England - the fields and woods were crawling with dog enthusiasts in Barbour jackets and corduroys and green wellies, sitting on shooting sticks and yacking about bloodlines, except that the yacking was taking place in pure Austrian dialect. It was like watching a Western riding tournament in Europe, where all the riders have stetsons and cowboy boots and most of them have never set foot on American soil. However, I have to say that I've yet to find a sport where the animals involved so obviously enjoyed themselves. Any kind of top level equestrian sport leaves with you the suspicion, if not the conviction, that the animals are being driven to the limits of their endurance, but the dogs were clearly having a whale of a time. One yellow labrador fucked up really badly by constantly misunderstanding what his owner wanted him to do, but in the end he found the dummy and brought it back, looking as pleased as punch, and he got his pat and his "good boy" and clearly thought he'd done a great job.
Bexy had Flan with her, and one man in a waxed cotton hat asked her which breeder he was from. "Stephanie Gfoeller," said Bexy. The man looked sceptical and asked who the parents were. When Bexy said "Echo and Traveller" his jaw dropped. Obviously this funny little bunch of Austrian English-squirearchy-wannabes were the only people in the world who understood the true significance of HRH Flanagan being the offspring of Echo and Traveller, but within this small society, she evidently made a good purchase.
And he really is lovely. He lies down to eat, and he chases his tail, and though he doesn't always come as soon as he's called, he's brilliant at sitting. If they have Sitting Tests, he'll pass with flying colours.