Rampant Behaviour

The girls are in season, oh joy of joys

No doubt we’ll be seeing a procession of boys.

There’s blood on the carpet, the doors and the walls;

The local studs will be licking their balls.

Three long weeks I must endure

Ensuring their virtue stays wholesome and pure.

But it’s only outside that they can’t have the fun

When they’re at home much mischief is done.

They bonk one another ‘til they’re all out of puff

And even when tired it’s just never enough

They take it in turns to bonk themselves silly

The boys are deluded – they don’t need a willy

There are certain rules that must be obeyed

(perhaps it would be easier if they were all spayed)

Only Talulah can bonk Tussock’s front

And nobody ever can get at her ……… bottom

Talulah’s the tart and she cares not with who

So listen up boys!  Form an orderly queue.

Bonking or being bonked, she doesn’t care which

For her was invented the term “randy bitch”

River’s enthusiasm knows absolutely no bounds

She goes at it with gusto, feet leaving the ground

She still gets mixed up as to which end to embrace

But the look of sheer pleasure is all over her face

Bed time come round with a sigh of relief

And any last bonks are usually quite brief

I tick off a day as I turn out the light

I give them a cuddle and bid them goodnight.

Come By and Away

River finally got to perform an inherent skill today - one which I have hitherto discouraged her from practicing.  I allowed her to work some sheep.  And boy oh boy, did she enjoy it!

We had to bring all the ponies down off the hill yesterday to overnight in an adjacent field.  In the melee of bringing them in, a few sheep ended up in the field with them.  Today, I let my ponies out again, but my friend was keeping hers in - she didn't want the sheep in there as well as there is little enough grass.  Once the horses were where they were all supposed to be, I opened the bottom gate which leads on to the hill, and went to find the sheep.

We quietly went round the back of them, and started to drive them down towards the gate.  River was doing her semi-crouching stalking walk, moving round them and then towards them, but steadied up every time I asked her to.  They made a bit of a run in the wrong direction, and with a bit of inept arm waving from me, River shot round the other side of me and pushed them back.  We got half way down the field like this, and then Talulah decided she wanted to help.  She came from behind me, running fast and straight, right into the middle of them with a huge "Woof".  The sheep scattered.

River stopped, look at Talulah with a look that I swear was exasperation, then looked at me as if to say "Now what mum?"

We just stood still, and the sheep re-grouped on their own, so we continued down the field.  They got a bit ahead of us at one point, and I could see they might run the wrong way and back into the field rather than out of the gate, but while River was still steadily moving them along, I moved out in order to discourage their potential escape.  They halted at the gate, hesitating a few moments before running through.  Good girl River!!  She came bounding up, looking very pleased with herself.  Talulah was still looking a little sheepish.

Okay - maybe it wasn't quite so smooth as this sounds, but River behaved fantastically, and with a lot of instinctive thinking.  She has shown this instinct before, and I have often wondered how I could have a go at working some sheep.

And where was Tussock during all of this?  Trying to avoid the puddles!!

No photos though as it was far too wet to take the camera.  But here are a couple of old photos which show her interest in sheep.

Okay, so these aren't sheep.  She constantly tried to round up the horses when they are running away.  They are not impressed.

The Demise of the Peace Lily

Talulah is not my favourite dog tonight.........

I had a large and beautiful peace lily, which sat, in its over-sized cup and saucer style pot, on a wooden Victorian plant stand.

Space is at a premium in my little house, and all the clean, spare dog blankets were stored under the plant stand.  When ever I come home from somewhere, Talulah likes to greet me with something in her mouth - sometimes it is my slippers, other times a ball, or an item of laundry - sometimes it is a collection of some or all of these things.

Tonight, however, when I came home from the drama club meeting, Talulah decided to bring me a blanket.  There was one she could easily have picked up - the little green one with Santa Claus printed all over it.  But no, she decided she would bring me a special one - a carefully folded one that had been put under the plant stand.  

As I opened the door I heard an almighty crash and once I had greeted the dogs, I went to investigate. The peace lily, it's pot and soil and stand were spread over several square metres of the carpet, a blanket pulled half way out from between the legs of the stand.  "Oh for F***'s sake" I said, at which utterance all three dogs shot out into the conservatory and to the garden beyond.  I didn't need to try to work out who was the guilty party - the evidence was there on the floor, and in the sheepish look on Talulah's face.

I guess it was a stupid place to keep the blankets.

Model Behaviour

River is proving to be an impossible patient.  She doesn't understand "take it easy", "rest" or "slow down".  Probably my fault entirely as I have always been able to indulge her appetite for activity and need for speed.  In hindsight, I suppose I should have worked on the self-control - but, hey-ho!

She is still leaping around despite the wound in her flank - she seems oblivious to it.  Fortunately it is in a place that doesn't come under too much stress with movement.  We are, however, keeping away from the water, and I am trying my best to keep it clean, and also to stop her nattering at it.  As a result, we have decided to promote our own fashion-wear for dogs.

We have the boob tube - ideal for the active dog who needs to avoid loose fitting clothing that might snag on fences or bramble bushes.

Then we have the leisure wear - a loose fitting t-shirt enabling air flow and restriction free movement - unless you stand on the trailing bit, of course - for wearing around the house.

Okay, so they won't make the dog-walk!  The boob tube should be useful again as my neckwarmer/hat, but I think this t-shirt has seen better days and its next port of call will be the rag bag - or perhaps I should keep it as insurance against further injury......

Coming in Threes

The old saying is that things come in threes - you could say that, as I have three dogs, and three horses - three bitches and three mares, for that matter.  (Oh what a House of Happy Hormones!!!) And all three of the dogs have hurt themselves in this last three weeks!

First it was Talulah who hurt her back.  I am not entirely sure how she did it, but we had been up the hill over the road where the dogs can indulge in a bit of rabbiting.  I don't often go up there as they tend to run themselves into a state of exhaustion, so it is just an occasional treat.  Often on the way back down to the house, the two younger dogs will take any opportunity to sit down and take a breather - and they did so on this day also.

I didn't really notice much difference in Talulah on getting back home or indeed until the evening - she was sleeping out the sofa out in the conservatory and I could her her whining quietly.  At first I thought she was whinging for suppertime, and when I called to her to come into the house, she didn't appear.  When I went out to her to encourage her in, she wouldn't get up - and she just wasn't herself.  Becoming a little concerned, I decided to give them supper at that point - which she did get up for, but then refused to go out to wee.  I half carried her outside, where she promptly lay down, so I half carried her back in again.  Now a faint feeling of alarm was setting in.  Not knowing quite what else to do, I did some Bowen moves on her, and settled her down for the night.  Needless to say, I didn't sleep the first half of the night as I kept getting up to go and check on her.  About 4am, I could hear her whining.  I took her outside again, to see if she needed a wee, which she managed to do.  On the way back in, she stopped at the foot of the stairs as if to say she wanted to go up to bed.  So, she walked up with her front end, and I carried the back.  We all then slept.  

Come the morning amidst the normal madness of getting up and excited dogs anticipating breakfast, for once I didn't have to fight for my slippers - Talulah was not for getting up.  Normally she is the most enthusiastic riser, running off with my slippers, socks, or anything else she can get hold off, and running downstairs to distribute them around the sitting room before pogo-ing at the door.

Alarm bells were ringing loudly now.  I fed the other two and then went back upstairs to encourage her to come down, even trying to lift her up - that was when she cried in pain, I abandoned that idea and phoned the vet.  I also phoned Chris to come and help me get her up and into the car.  When he arrived, who should appear in the sitting room but Talulah!  A bit wobbly, but wagging her tail.  We went to the vet anyway and was given a painkilling and anti-inflammatory injection and some medicine to take home with instructions to rest for a few days.  Talulah obviously wasn't listening because by the end of the day she was entirely herself again.

Whether the Bowen worked, or I shifted something when trying to move her, I don't suppose I will ever know - but I am very relieved that whatever it was has gone and taken all evidence of itself away.

Two weeks later, in the melee of getting past the cows at work, Tussock got under my feet.  She yelped, but I could do nothing until I had dealt with a particularly bad tempered cow.  Once we were past them, I then turned to Tussock who was holding up a foot and looking at me sadly.  I had a look at it - it seemed fine, no reaction to my poking, so I kissed it better and she trotted off happily.

All was fine until the next morning when she suddenly yelped, held her foot up for a few moments and limped off - nobody was near her at the time.  The rest of the day she was fine - until the next day when she was holding up her foot and limping again.  A proper examination found no thorns, no stones, no lumps, no cuts.  One toe, however, was obviously tender and rather swollen.  

I concluded that she might have broken her toe - and anticipated another trip to the vet the next day.  Come morning - no sign of a limp in the house or when walking.  Trotting on hard ground, she would limp, but she was eager to run on the grass, and even to instigate play with River.    Given that she was comfortable enough for that, I decided to let time and her body do its own healing rather than let the vet poke about at it.  She continues to improve.

And now it is River's turn!  She and Tussock were racing round a building at work to intercept Talulah who was returning after being AWOL.  River squeezed between Tussock and the building - through a very narrow gap.  There was a sharp lip of metal jutting out and an enormous clump of hair was left on this metal.  Cursing, I caught up with the dogs, to find Tussock holding her foot up (she must have knocked it), and River standing still and not beating up Talulah as she would normally do.  I had a quick look at her, and found a long, but not deep, scratch on her rib cage - okay, not so bad.  With relief, we went off for a quick walk in the field before going home.

During the evening, River got down off the sofa and as she did so, I saw a large bald patch in her waistline.  I had a look, only to find a large hole about the size of a pound coin and a long and defoliated scratch!  The hole wasn't deep - but almost as if she had just ripped the skin off.  Another trip to the vet coming up?  Once again, I elected not to go - it is clean, not deep enough to stitch, and the vet was unlikely to do any more than I am already doing - keeping it clean and keeping an eye on it.  And resting her.

So that is the three.  However, two weeks ago, Mooi also injured herself, lacerating the back of a front pastern on some barbed wire.......she is on the mend, but I do hope this isn't the beginning of another round of three.

A Bit of a Rant

I recently had a "discussion" on Facebook that made me think.  It also annoyed me a little and has been bugging me for days.  It has made me realise that there are "animal people" and "others".  The conversation was in response to a post about some awful festival where lots of cows end up lying in a pool of blood whilst many people watch the spectacle.

First comment from someone was "Disgusting"

Him :  I don't understand the problem - unless you are a vegan

Another contributor : The problem is the barbaric way they are killed - sheer cruelty.

Him - No more barbaric than anything else in nature.  Perhaps you'd better call for Lions to be banned.

Me ; Lions and (most) other predators kill when they need to eat - not for the fun of it.

Him : Foxes kill for fun.  Muslims and Jews do not.  They kill in the approved manner in order to eat meat in the same way that you kill animals to eat.  Let's remember that these animals are just that - they are not "fur kids" or "hairy humans".  We are too keen to anthropomorphise animals (and cars, computers etc) and we forget that they are animals.

Me : But other animals don't make a spectacle of it and have fun whilst watching another animal die in pain and distress.

Another contributor : Yes, they are animals, and they are in our care, and should be treated well it even says you in your Koran.  In the days it was written I guess the best way was a quick slash to the throat, but things Have MOVED on.  It is possible to kill so quick that the beats do not know it is even happening, also in the better places, they don't have to stand there watching their herd being killed.  In a good slaughter house there is no panic and little noise.  Animals, and we are animals too, certainly feel pain and scientists have proved they can think!

Him : Animal packs watch beasts being brought down and often dine off them while they are still alive, so your argument doesn't hold up.  I have watched Qrban - there is little suffering going on.  The case against it is being overstated.

Me : As the most intelligent species on earth (apparently), and self imposed caretakers of the planet, we have a duty of care to minimise the suffering of any creature in our care, or that we breed, catch, or kill for our own consumption or other use.  These animals are sentient beings - and no, I am not anthropomorphising - with emotions and thoughts of their own.  It is morally wrong, in my opinion, to make a festival out of the killing of other creatures.  And no, I am not vegan or even vegetarian - but I do prefer my meat to have had a good like and a quick and clean death.  There is a huge difference between a pack of wolves or lions waiting for dinner than a crowd of blood-thirsty humans watching for the fun of it.

Him : The difference is marginal at best.  I am more concerned with humanitarian treatment of humans.  Something that is rather rare these days.

Me : At least humans can speak up for their rights as a species - but I accept that there are many individuals and groups of individuals who do not have a voice.  Other creatures do not.  I prefer to speak up for the other creatures.  Until humankind treats its own with dignity, kindness and compassion, I guess other creatures will have to wait a bit longer for that same treatment, and that saddens me.

Him : Most people cannot speak up or do not know how.  Your argument is specious and based solely on your own experiences.  Broaden your outlook and then come back to (at?) me.

Me : I think it is yourself that needs to broaden YOUR outlook.  Humans are not the only creatures on this earth, and they do not have priority over any others.  Without those other creatures, we would not have the life that we do have, physically, mentally or emotionally.  Other animals have much to teach us and I am prepared to listen.  Yes - my argument is based on my own experiences - perhaps I have been more fortunate than you to have experiences that have opened my mind wide open, and far beyond the human need.

His final reply was to give me the link to an article in his blog.  If you want to read it, you will find it here. http://davidleyman.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/0-false-18-pt-18-pt-0-0-false-false.html

He has some good points in his article, but to my mind it didn't make sense as a comment.

I am guessing that most of you reading this will fall on the side of my argument as most of the people I rub shoulders with are animal people.  So I am trying to put myself to the other side of the argument and exploring in my mind if I am in the wrong.  It isn't that I don't care about humans - I have been told many times that I am a kind person - but I honestly think that caring only about our own species is wrong on so many levels.  I think it is morally wrong and I also think it is arrogant and stupid.  

I don't like to hear of wars and famine, of natural disasters and outbreaks of disease - I certainly don't take delight in hearing of the death of a person, or group of people - quite the opposite - so why is it that some people do take delight in or watching animals (or even people) being slaughtered in a way that causes those animals distress and pain.  Because animal lovers care about this, does it make us better, or just different?  Perhaps there are two kinds of human - have we evolved slightly differently?

To suggest that my argument is specious (plausible but actually wrong) and that I need to broaden my outlook is quite insulting as I cannot see, no matter how I look at it, how his outlook is broader than mine - he only cares about one species (human) where I care about others - surely mine is broader?

  

The earth is (or was!) a balanced ecosystem where every kind of creature has its place in the environment - it is only mankind that abuses the planet, bringing about extinction of various plants, animals, and destroying the habitat of groups of indigenous people.  Yes, we should look after other humans far better than we do but unless we look after everything else with care, kindness and compassion, then we ourselves may cease to exist.  And without the animals that are closest to us, the lives we currently lead would be so much the poorer on every level.

I am not perfect - far from it - but even after chewing on this for several days I don't think I will change my attitude!

If you have read this far - thank you!  I know this is meant to be a doggy blog, but .....................  and I do feel better for getting that off my chest!!!!

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Remembering Sisko

Sisko.  SISKO!  SISKO!!!!!!!  A commonly heard sound during Sisko's lifetime.  He came to us at somewhere around six months of age - we were told he was younger, but we were never sure about that.  We collected him from the local rescue centre on a November afternoon - well, we went to SEE him, but of course we came home with him.....

He started showing his style that very first afternoon when we got back to the hotel.  Guests had just vacated the sitting room where they had been enjoying tea, shortbread and clootie dumpling.  I went to the kitchen to get a tray to collect the cups and saucers and the goodies that hadn't been eaten.  When I got back to the sitting room, there were no goodies and I assumed a guest had come back to polish off what was left.  Then Sisko shot out from behind a sofa and out the door.

That was the first of many, many thefts.  We learnt not to let him near the guests as he would swipe their food from their plate or hands.  Or he would perform the "starvation" trick by sucking in his stomach and pleading with his brown eyes.  So many people fell for it.

He stole the carrots, the potatoes, the turnips (the aftermath of that was always smelly!), the bird food, the compost heap, the chicken shit garden fertiliser.  He even stole the ashes that had been scattered on our little island by a loving family.

He raided the bin so often that one day I pushed him in and told him if he was so fond of the bin's interior he could stay in there.  We rubbed chili oil around the bin to put him off - he licked it clean.  We put in horrible stuff on the top - he just rummaged down underneath it.  We were advised to put in small firecrackers, but he just thought they were fun.

His most memorable theft however was one night when we were staying at my parents' house.  I can't remember why we were so late, but we only got to the house at about 1.30am and my parents were asleep and so we tried our best to be quiet.  We left the dogs outside to go pee, and then called them in five minutes later.  Laren came in immediately, but there was no sign of Sisko.  Trying to call him in whispered tones is not easy, and I eventually had to go look for him.  I found him in the compost heap and extracted him with the sheer force of my annoyance. 

We had only just turned out the light when we heard the familiar "urgh urgh urgh urrrrrgghhh!" - the light went back on to find that Sisko had just thrown up the contents of the compost heap - right in front of the door, meaning I had to spread it around to get out of the bedroom.

Quietly (trying not to waken parents) I went back to the kitchen, got a bowl of hot water, disinfectant and a cloth, plus a bag to scoop the offering into.  I cleaned up the mess as best I could, then disposed of the dirty water, and the bag of yuck.

When I returned to bed we repeated the whole process several times until finally we put out the light properly at around 2.45am.

When we got up in the morning, my father grumped at me "you left the hall light on"  When I recounted the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime, he didn't believe me - and I couldn't believe they had slept through the whole thing.

Another memorable occasion was when he found some old cooking oil to "clean up".  A few hours later he came to me and placed his head in my lap, wagging his tail, and being generally rather sweet until, without warning, the cooking oil was deposited in my lap.  

One time when Sisko was staying with my parents, my dad made a sandwich, then went to answer the phone.  When he came back to get his sandwich, it wasn't there - he began to think he had imagined making it until he saw Sisko's expression.  Another sandwich that fell from the counter never made the floor.

He didn't just steal, however.  He also loved to pull all the drying laundry off the pulleys or off the line outside.  He loved to play the "You can't catch me" game.  The more frustrated we got, the more he enjoyed it, laughing at us as he ran.  He ripped apart the goatskin pouffe in our neighbour's house.  He loved to sleep in smelly fish boxes, or cardboard boxes.  He rolled in long-dead deer and sheep. He loved to bonk any girlie dog that visited.  He loved to bonk rucksacks, and even better to bonk rucksacks that were on someone's back.

He drove us nuts for most of his life, but he had some shining moments too.

When he first arrived, we still had Leroy who was then 16 years old.  One afternoon in the following spring, Sisko was barking in a way we hadn't heard before - when we looked out, we found that Leroy had fallen in the ditch and couldn't get out.  Sisko was standing by him, shouting for help, and was so pleased when we got there.  And apart from one occasion when he knocked Leroy over, he was always very mindful of where the old boy was and to be careful.

When Laren arrived at the age of six weeks, his first move was to try to bonk her, but a stern "no" stopped him - and he never tried it again.  He loved his little sister dearly and I have many pictures of them playing or curled up together.

One of their favourite games was with a huge cardboard box.  We would put one of them in it to fight their way out, and the other would fight their way in - there was never much left of a box at the end of it.

Or trying to get the ball from a wheelbarrow full of water.

If Laren was the household intellect .... Sisko was the court jester.  One time, Laren was helping us clean up after a decorating session.  We would fill a box with a handle with bits and pieces which she would then carry down the stairs and empty into a designated place, returning upstairs for more.  Sisko seemed to want to help, so we found a small tub for him and filled it with all the loose nuts and bolts etc.  He started off with enthusiasm, but got distracted half way down the stairs, emptying the tub of its contents!

He loved Laren so much, and I will never, ever forget his distress when we had to leave her at the vet that last time.

With the puppies that followed over the years, he was always like a grumpy but kindly grandfather.  He would grumble but never once lost his patience with them.

Rest in Peace old fella - I think it is only now that I am appreciating you for the dog you were.  I wish I could turn the clock back and do it all differently, or have had you from a puppy, but then you wouldn't have taught me all that you did.  Love you old man.

s

I Love My Dogs - And You Better Believe It!

A conversation with a friend got me thinking about how much my dogs mean to me.  The comment "He's fast asleep, love that little bugger" was so nice to hear as it made me feel a bit more normal.  I know many of my friends love their dogs dearly - but how often do we publicly say how much?  Or do we feel a bit embarrassed to say so unless it is to someone we know will understand?  After all, they are just dogs....

As I child I never had any interest in dolls - but I remember always wanting to have a dog in the house.  As a six year old I stayed awake late into the night waiting for our rescue afghan hound to arrive - I couldn't wait until morning.  And when he died some years later, it wasn't long before I was nattering for another dog.  Along came Tanya, another rescue afghan who saw me through my teenage years.  My brother didn't have any interest in dogs, and to this day, has never had one in his own household - I think he barely tolerates my brood!

In fact, I worked out that in just over 50 years, I have only had a total of perhaps 3 of them without a dog.  And now I cannot imagine life without them - it would be empty, and somehow pointless.

I never wanted to have children - and often wondered if there was something wrong with me.  In my early twenties, I worked in a bank, and whenever a young woman came in with a baby, all the other girls would flock to the counter to ask to hold the baby.  Various maternal noises would be made and I would remain at my desk wondering what the fuss was about.  When anyone came into the bank with a puppy, however, I was out the door to the front office to make a fuss of the pup.

Like human babies bring out the maternal instincts in (most) women, it is puppies that bring it out in me.  I just want to sit down and play with them, and be treated to puppy kisses.  I daresay that many women my age just thought I was odd.

Leroy was my first dog of my own - and he was my companion for almost 17 years, seeing me through the break up of my first marriage and several subsequent relationships before I settled down again - he saw all my ups and downs, heard the laughter and the tears, and just quietly kept life in balance for me by giving me routine and responsibility.  He was an amazing dog, and my only wish is that I had been a little wiser in those days and been a better mum.  Losing him at an old age was hard, but he had a good and full life and it was time for him to go.

Leroy aged four

Sisko the labrador came along in Leroy's last year - an unruly rescue pup who was hell bent on mischief, theiving and driving me round the bend.  He and I actually always had what you might call a difficult relationship - I never really bonded with him like I have with all the others - but it is him I have to thank for teaching me so much and forcing me to learn - about dogs, and about myself.  I just lost him a couple of years ago at almost 14.  Through his lifetime he played the kindly "uncle" to four  puppies, and whilst he grumbled regularly he never lost his temper at any of them. 

Sisko always loved to sleep in boxes

My little collie Laren was the heartbreaker (and the absolute love of Sisko's life) - and it still makes me cry to think about her early death at just six years of age.  I have had to box up those last memories and bury them deep so that the waves of emotion and tears don't come crashing in like a winter storm.  I can think of her life easily enough, and remember how clever she was, how quickly she would learn another trick, and her very cheeky way of demanding attention by gently nudging visitors in the crotch!  Perhaps I should reserve a page for her one of these days.

Laren

Laren and Sisko often chose to cuddle up

Tussock came along just months before we lost Laren.  Then came Talulah, and finally River.  I sit here with River on the sofa beside me, Talulah on the other sofa, and Tussock under the table.  In half an hour they will all have changed places without me noticing the flow of bodies as they take turns to lay beside me.

My dogs are my family, as important and special to me as any human children are to their parents.  I tell them my hopes and dreams, my secrets and my worries. When I watch them sleeping, my heart fills with love and tenderness for them.  In the night, if I wake, I reach out to touch whoever is closest, and just enjoy their warmth and softness.  I don't care if non-dog people think I am odd.  I don't care if they think being kissed by a dog is dirty.  I don't give a flying f**k.

I LOVE MY DOGS!!!!!  And you had better believe it.

A Foreign Affair

I didn't go to Denmark with the intention of falling in love - it just happened.  And to be honest, I thought I was past the days of holiday romances - and I certainly thought I was too much of a cynic nowadays to believe in love at first sight.

I had looked forward to this meeting for some time with a mix of excitement and anxiety.  What if we didn't like each other?  I shouldn't have worried, though, because within minutes of setting eyes on one another, we were laughing, kissing and cuddling and rolling on the ground.

WAIT!!!  I can sense some raised eyebrows around here.  Those of you that know me are probably wondering what is going on.  "She has met someone, and hasn't told us!".  Well, I was hesitant to talk about it because I was unsure if my own feelings were reciprocated, but I have now been told that it is a mutual feeling.

So........... let me describe her...............Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention that bit.  I didn't meet a man.  I met a girl - and that was the other reason I hesitated to talk about it - I was unsure how you would all take it.

Anyway -  She is intelligent, loving, full of fun, engaging, attentive and a huge flirt.  She has deep brown eyes full of love and mischief, wonderfully silky black hair, golden brown legs, and a very pretty face.

Although she is Danish, language wasn't a problem - we seemed to find our own unspoken language with which to communicate and I very quickly became besotted with her - and apparently she was crazy about me too.

We spent hours walking and playing on the beach, racing up sand dunes, getting sand in our clothes and water in our (well, my) boots (she had bare feet), cuddling on the sofa, cuddling on the floor,  I was in seventh heaven.  I wasn't sure what my family were going to say about all of this, but at the time, I didn't care - they were at home, and I was in Denmark with my new love.

The time was over too soon and I had to come home - sadly leaving her behind.  I know she will be happy without me - she already has people who love her very much.  And I have family who love me very much too.  But a little bit of my heart has stayed behind in Denmark.

Her name is Tilde.

Running up and down the sand dunes

Enjoying the beach together

Who needs speech to communicate

Playtime

Beautiful girl

Sofa time

Lots of cuddles

About to have dinner 

Pretty Tilde