Showing posts with label Wilf. Berger Polonaise de Pleine.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wilf. Berger Polonaise de Pleine.. Show all posts

Saturday, June 5, 2010

An early morning fright.




An audible intake of breath by 'the font' had me hurtling down the stairs to see what the matter was. For one horrible, horrible moment it looked as though Wilf had managed to have an argument with a chain saw or another dog. The white of his coat was stained deep glistening crimson , he seemed to be covered in large red wounds all the way along the back and sides, and his muzzle looked as though it had been seriously gashed. How on earth could it have happened ?

Then a quick check - the large red wounds weren't wounds at all - they were very ripe, very sweet, very squashed cherries. Overnight there had been a strong breeze from the mountains that had shaken a rich , ground shrouding cover of dark purple fruits from the trees. Wilf , being Wilf, had gone out into the cherry orchard on his pre-breakfast ramble , grazed unconcernedly on the cherries ( hence the bright red muzzle ), rolled playfully on his back and then fallen into a deep ,oblivious to everything, sleep. End result he came into the house luxuriantly soaked in cherry juice and looking as if he'd been on the receiving end of something unspeakable. As he was dumped unceremoniously in the bath by 'the font' he gave me one of his " I didn't mean to do anything wrong " looks.

After a vigorous scrubbing and a post bath rice cake he is now recovering from his watery ordeal in the shade of the courtyard trees. The crimson dog has returned to his natural snow white state remarkably quickly. There's never a dull moment with Wilf. We now await the longer term gastric effects of his cherry eating. These should become evident round about lunchtime.

Who's ever heard of dogs eating cherries ? Mental note to add to the list of things to do - fence off and gate the cherry orchard.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Water = torture.





Out for a long early morning walk with a supercharged Wilf who tore out of the front gate. His first port of call was the flower stall in the village where he greeted the owner with a lusty, head full back 'good morning' bark . Then time for a leisurely sniff of the various potted plants before heading off to the bandstand. The rain over night had thrown off a host of exciting smells and scents so our progress was decidedly leisurely with halts every three feet or so. By the end of our perambulation his muzzle was black from exploring unsavoury nooks and crannies. Once home a quick wash with a flannel and the worst of the mud and detritus came off . From the squeals, yelps and shrieks that accompanied his face wash you would have thought that he was being tortured with electric cattle prods.

This morning a vast flurry of completely unexpected activity around the house. Two huge trucks full to the brim with earth have arrived to fill the subsidence in the garden.Miraculously Yves, Ross his wild haired Irish sidekick, and the morose lad in the blue bib overalls have turned up to finish off the library and complete the decking. After an unproductive stint in the kitchen Wilf is now positioned in the courtyard where he can monitor events as they unfold. He is hoping for illicit Jaffa Cakes from Ross.