Dog terrorist alert on La'al Ratty! (September 2005)

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Hairyface's mate (uncle) Tony came up for the weekend, so Hairy took him to the little train I've writ about before.
(Same walk as well, cos Uncle T hadn't done it. So it was rather Boresville Kentucky for YT and kid sis!)

However...
We were on the train, pootlin along, as we do, at "n" miles an hour (ie dead slow!). Suddenly, there was an almighty hissing noise like a huge one of Ratbag's snakes (Ratbag is The Screature's kid sister, and a pain in the gluteous). Io leapt about a foot in to the air and onto the seat opposite uncle Tony.

Naturally the humings all laughed at the kid sis's antics and the expression of sheer terror etched across her visog. Honestly, I didn't know eyes could open that wide. But slowly and surely the train began to draw to a conclusion, in the middle of nowhere.

A sprog got out from the engine and walked along the train. When he got next to us he yelled ,"There's a leak here!" And a hairier bloke than Hairy appeared and asked us to shift our butts. Well, not as down to earth as that, but that was the general impression.

I was having a quiet nap at the time of the hissing and stopping. I wasn't too chuffed to be getting off the wagon to be shunted out from a spot I'd just got nicely warmed up. (Hairy had let me sit on the seat as it was covered in plastic and I wasn't scruffy yet!)

Any road, the sprog and the Santa chap broddled about where Io had been and said, "There's an hole in yon pipe!" In a voice loud enough for the whole train to hear and put two and two together!

After a lot of head scratching, and standing about looking dateless they proceeded to try and fix the hole.


Io (Saboteur extraordinaire) was remarkably quiet. She gave this air of "What? Me..? Would I do such a thing?" As in the photograph. (Butter wouldn't melt!)

Hairyface and Uncle T. both leapt to her defence, saying stuff like: "She's not a chewer!" [Ha, that made me laugh, she's ett the toe out of four pairs of The S's shoes already!]
"She wasn't under the seat." [Course she was. She was narked cos I'd got on it!"]
"She doesn't even know how to spell Al Qaida, never mind be one!" [Ha, (again) that dog could be a sleeper, planted on this unsuspecting, typically English family, waiting for her moment to pounce - and then wham! Nobody'd know what hit 'em.]
Well... I'd know!
It'd be Io the Sabo throwing her clog into the mundane happenings of our Gilcrux household. Watching the ripples of terror spread through West Cumbria, and sniggering behind her paw at the mayhem and chaos she'd caused. (Actually, she does that pretty much anyway!)

The upshot of all this was that international terrorism reared its hairy head in West Cumbria for a brief moment on Saturday morning. Until with a bit of British gumption and a length of gaffer tape they fixed the hole and we were off again. Twenty minutes of the walk stolen!

We got moved to another carriage and squashed in next to the guard, probably to make sure Io Sabo didn't gnaw off another vital component! I did the head butting thing on the guard's arm, to pour oil on troubled water, and he went through the "Nice doggy!" routine. Hairy & Uncle T. continued to defend this terrorist in our midst.

Afterwards, [that is after the trek round Eel Tarn - where it rained - and which I won't mention again] sat in the Woolpack, Io Sabo did happen to mention, quite nonchalantly, like, that she hadn't chewed that pipe thingy at all. She had merely been seeing if it wasn't a discarded liquorice allsort, cos it was the same colour as those coconutty ones she particularly likes.

Two Weimaraners on a bridge over troubled water.

Hairyface and Uncle T. still gave her chips!!!

I could spit.

Swimming lessons (August 2005)

Well, what a weekend.
Hairyface took us to his favourite spot: the fish ladder on Crummock water. I shoulda guessed something was up when he put on his walking in watershoes but Io and I were just so excited about being up and out of the house it didn't twig!

Swimming lessons for IO! Which meant YT (yours truly) had to have 'em too. Big swizz!
It was a glorious day, dead warm and only small cloudy stuff. Hairy had his shorts on - a sight of sore eyes - and we reached the fish ladder in no time. It's less than 10 miles from home.

The bridge next to the fish ladder.
Io expected that we were off to the Kirkstile for a sit in the garden while Hairy and The S stuffed their faces and oiled their necks, she wasn't half surprised when at the water's edge he put her on the lead and started wading out into the lake with her. I scooted about in the brush searching for twigs to crunch and hoping he'd forget about me. Fat chance.

Hairyface walked quite a long way out with Io until the water was over his kness and little pup, bless her, was all of a dither. She had to swim cos the sneaksvillain found a huge rock to stand on, out in a really deep part. Then he wound the lead through the water and little sis was swimming.

She didn't like it. You could tell. She'd lost her usual wag and, at first, was dead splashy. After a bit she seemed to cotton on and had a good go. She began to look like Moss or Purdie (Hairy's friend's Golden Retrievers, who're so balmy about water they'll try and swim in a puddle!)
To be fair she developed a nice action, sleek and sharklike, and her tail was a great rudder.
The Screature was watching all this from the shore, shouting encouragement to "her" pup. She wasn't too keen when her pup had her collar unclipped, made a beeline for the side and shook water all over her!

I ought to have known what was coming next, but that stick was a really interesting texture. Quite tough at first, but then it cracked with a twisty spirally action which meant you could strip long sections off it and shred 'em really small. I'd worked my way down a long stretch of this when He called me, and without thinking I wagged my way over.
Durr brain!

He clipped me onto my lead and did the wadey out - draggy round the rock thing with me too! I mean. What's he playing at? He knows I don't do the water stuff. It messes up me collar. Takes it ages to dry out, and leaves a dark line around me neck that makes me feel like a mongrel. Anyway I showed him.. mouth just on the waterline, eyes like two small pinkpricks, ears swept back. Honest, you could almost hear the 'dur dah, dur dah' music in the background. He unclipped me too but I can't get the spatter pattern that Io gets when I shake, so I didn't even deign to try and splash The S.

I thought that'd be it, but no. Hairy had other ideas. He wanted us to enjoy it. So we'd go swimming without his help! Enjoy it! It's bloomin' water you stupid man! You don't see him rushing to jump in and splash about willy nilly, why should we? I thought. (Actually you do. Sometimes he takes his trunks with him and jumps into tarns and lakes and stuff. Dead embarrassing it is. He's swimming about like an amphibian from Stingray and we're on the side thinking "Hurry up. Someone's gonna see us!" Luckily he only does this when there's loads of leaves on the trees so we sometimes have a screen.)

This time he climbs on the fish ladder - there was no water coming over it at all -and calls us to him. Well, I mean, as if that's going to work!

We do the dutiful dog bit and look all worried on the bank. Giving it plenty of: well... we would, but we don't like the water, we're a bit scaredy... stuff. Eventually he gives up the calling idea and wades back.
This time he clips us both onto leads and wades out with us! That's not fair! We had to swim through a deep bit and the we're on a shoal in the middle of the water with swims every way back to the bank. Crafty devil!
Io wasn't happy and kept saying "I don't like this wet stuff! I want me mum!" Wuss!
I knew what was coming, and sure enough, he unclipped Io, The S called her and she swam over like she was born to it.
Huh. No hairy dog's gonna make YT look silly. So when he did the same to me I thought, I'll show her. The S didn't need to call I was over double quick. The Thorpedo of the dog world.

Now here's where me subterfuge went wonky. Hairy reached down into the water and picked up a stone. Cheeky baggage, he knows I can't resist stones. So before I realised what I was doing I was back across to Hairy to fetch the stone from him. Swimming through the deep bit without a thought.
Well, he was so pleased you could smell it pouring off him like sweat. I took the stone and swam back to The S on the bank. He did it again. So did I. This musta gone on for about twenty minutes. I was giving it the well behaved dog routine like billyo and he was just spreading more and more pleasure smell across the foot of the lake.

Two spaniels went across the footbridge by the ladder (strange that, spaniels are even wetter than retrievers about water) and they picked up the scent too. "You've got him well trained!!" They shouted across to me.
He tried to get Io to do the same thing again and again but she wouldn't - she's not discovered the joy of stones yet (she's only three). She just ran across the bridge out of the way.
The pleasure smell began to drift off and I started to pick up traces of hunger and thirst instead so I could tell what was planned. A lovely, long stroll around the lake shore to the pub and a sit in the garden, followed by a few chips for us and a leisurely jaunt back.

Wrong again! They walked us back to the car! A coupla hundred yards! Didn't even dry us and drove to the pub!
We had to sit there, in this pub garden, with other dogs and hewmings all about, whiffing of cleanness all arvo. The shame of it. At least on the walk we could have messed ourselves up a bit.
But it was worth it. Hairy now thinks I'm a keen swimmer. Ha, ha. The only way I'll be going in the wet stuff again is if he's in first. Seems like a point to me, I think.

Me at Derwentwater

By the train to the train (May 2005)

We got squashed in the new car last week and only went three miles to Aspatria Railway station.
I knew what it was 'cos I've been on a train before but Io didn't. She was a bit scaredy catty when the thing stopped in front of us and Hairyface and The Screature put us on it. The floor was really good.. full of muck and smells and a half sandwich that Hairy wouldn't let us eat.
It seemed ok at first but there was no view, except feet, and it got hotter and hotter. We slept lots.

After about an hour and a half, according to Hairy, we left and went around a place with lots of smaller trains. These were really smelly. They had smoke coming from a hole in their roofs and hissed. Again Io was a bit scaredy cat about it and almost pulled The S over when one of 'em hissed at her personally. At least that's what she kept saying. I think it just farted.

This one was much better. I could cuddle up to Hairyface and look outside. Well, there were no walls just a gap to get in, a seat and a lid. The floor was clean too, it smelled of that disinfect stuff that The S uses if we have accidents.
Anyway, the smells were great. You could stick your nose into the wind and even smell the sheep on the bumps. The S got twitchy as she thought Io would jump out. As If? We're not that silly. OK, we can be sometimes, but we've never jumped off anything that was moving.

We got out in the middle of the bumps. It wasn't really very sunny and not many other people about. We walked off down past a place where Hairy and The S stop for tea and cake, but this time they kept walking. After about twenty minutes we were off the reins and away.
It was not to steep, unusual for Hairy (but he did have The S with him), and at first it was a real road. (Keeps your claws short) There were some amazing whiffs near a cow shed that had The S wrinkling her conk and making "Phewee" noises. Hairy said that it was ripe.

The path became grass and then mud and we chased about like we were trail hounds following a scent. Io did the usual and found a puddle to jump in. She does it just cos it really winds The S up. Hairy usually laughs. We found a big pond after a bit. Hairy said it was "Eel Tarn". Don't know what an Eel is but the tarn was freezing cold. We went wading but I wasn't going to spoil me collar.
Hairyface had some fud in his backpack and he gave us our sandwich and clicked at us with his camera thing. It was a shame there wasn't much sun cos it'd have been great to stay there and chill for a bit. But without the sun The S said it was chilly and they ought to get on to the pub.

Io likes pubs, I'm not so sure. Sometimes they're OK. like that one in Cockermouth where they used to give Great Aunt Gaia pistachio nuts. Other times they don't let us in saying we're a health hazard. I mean, how unhealthy can two fit young pups be? Then we have to stay outside on a hard floor and watch Hairy and The S pour the amber stuff down their necks.

This one were great, though. The Woolpack Inn. Nice floor. Plenty of smells. Mainly fud being cooked. They had Sangers and chips. Hairy kept slipping us a chip under the table. Now, I'm not normally a dog for chips, but these were the best I've ever tasted. Even The S said so and she should know, she shovels 'em in like nobody's business.

They had several glasses of neck oil which made me smile cos Hairy always has to stop and let it out again, almost as soon as he's drunk it.

From the Woolpack we followed a river for ages. It was not too fast but just as cold as Eel Tarn wasearlier. Hairyface had a go at crossing some stones in the water. We all hoped he'd fall in. Even The S and some wrinklies sat on the bankside watching. He didn't. Life can let you down like that.

We didn't even go to get Tea and cake. Hairy said we had to rush or we'd be stranded at Ravenglass. So forty minutes more of great whiffs in the old schnozz and we're back at the place where the big trains come in.

Io said she was a veteran now and tried to get on before everyone else. The old wrinkly she tangled up with the lead didn't find it as funny as I did.

The train was packed. We couldn't even sit together. Hairy and I squeezed in to a table with three rotten sprogs squashed up on the othe seat. They had sweets but didn't drop one! Io tried to slobber over a bloke's knee who'd sat near her and The S. But The S stopped her and got slobbed instead. She wasn't happy about that.

By the time we got to Aspatria I had been kicked, nudged and had my ear pulled by the stupid sprogs opposite I was seriously tempted to try for the vicious dog badge.
In the car again Hairy found another sanger, which we ate. Beef and pickled red cabbage. Urgh. How can he eat it? For fun?
We kipped in front of the fire all night and pretended we'd been on a huge expedition.
Ha, we probably only did four miles.
Doddle.

Next time Hairyface says we can have a longer walk. Can he read minds?