g(love)

hiya

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. A while ago, we lived in a tall stone building in a city where there were lots of cars. Now we live here:

welivehere

Where there are lots of these:

trees

And a few of these:

cows

One of the many good things about it round here is that there are many Paths and I get to walk on these Paths with Kate and Tom. Sometimes I get to go swimming, and sometimes I leap about in the long grass, smelling interesting animal smells. But wherever we go, there is generally some water and mud for me to get myself nicely lathered up in. Hurrah!

puddle

This particular Path is known as West Highland Way and is frequented not only by dogs and cows and deer but by many human walkers. Human walkers can be forgetful, and occasionally they discard their belongings along Path. That is OK though, because I sniff out and find these belongings, and then I make them MINE. Without a doubt, the best of these found belongings is GLOVE.

vileobject

Now, I first found GLOVE about three weeks ago by Path. Since then I have played with it many times and it is now sodden and chewed and has a delicious bovine odour. GLOVE seems quite robust though: Kate tells me that it is fashioned from acrylic, and is therefore a sort of plastic which refuses to decay. But though GLOVE is indestructible, and now has a very strong smell about it, sometimes I play with it so hard that I actually manage to lose it in the grass. Tom or Kate will insist that GLOVE is finally lost forever, but then, O joy of joys, a few days later I will always find it again, usually in a completely different location. I suspect the cows to have a hand (or hoof) in its unaccountable movements.

bruceglovecow

Now, there are many fun things to do with GLOVE but probably the most fun to be had is when the humans throw it for you. Kate describes GLOVE as “a vile object” and is sometimes unwilling to join in the game. But, dear friends, let me tell you a good trick I have discovered: If you present Kate with GLOVE often enough, and stare at her for long enough with your most persuasive expression, she will eventually join in.

persuasion

Once Kate has capitulated, and throws GLOVE for you, you can retrieve and prance with GLOVE until you are exhausted.

prancing1

prancing2

prancing3

F U N!

But, eventually, it is time to leave and – sadly – to leave GLOVE beind, as for some unknown reason, Kate will not allow me to bring GLOVE home.

goodbyeglove

This is Gate which leads home off West Highland Way.

gate

Right by Gate there is Old Wall.

oldwall

Kate instructs me to LEAVEIT behind Old Wall. This makes me sad.

mustIdropit

But if I don’t LEAVEIT behind Old Wall we don’t go home.

Well, goodbye, fun GLOVE buddy.

leftbythewall

Probably the only good thing about leaving GLOVE behind Old Wall is that, unlike losing it in the grass, it is always there next time, and I am always surprised and happy to discover it once again!

path

See you soon, love Bruce xx

A Walk with Felix

hiya

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. I am here to tell you about a Fun Walk I had yesterday at Braid Hill with Kate and my buddy, Felix. This walk (which is one of my favourites) begins by Golf Course. Golf Courses are very mysterious human spaces: men walk purposefully about them with large bags and sticks, and occasionally a ball flies by which I am not allowed to chase. Also, Golf Courses are composed of large flat, inviting lawns which clearly say “gambol upon me.” Oddly, though, whenever we encounter one, I am not allowed to gambol but am sternly told to walk to heel. Yesterday, though, I was so happy to be engaged upon the business of Walking with Felix that I got away, and gambolled happily about the Golf Course. Then I did something in the middle of the big green lawn which made Kate shout “Oh No! Bruce!” in that way she often does. So I thought I’d cheer her up by rolling in something a horse had left nearby . . . sadly this did not seem to do the trick.

Felix remained in good spirits, however, and, fully fired up with eau de cheval, we ascended Hill. At the top of Hill it was clearly time for a game, and, after rummaging in the bushes I presented Felix with Old Ball.

plinth

Come down from there, Felix, it is time to throw Old Ball.

brucefelix2

Look at me prance with Old Ball, Felix.

brucefelix3

Time to throw Old Ball again, Felix.

brucefelix1

What do you mean, its the end of the game?

ballface1

Please throw Old Ball again, Felix.

ballface2

Sadly, there was no more Old Ball fun for me as Kate decided it was time to take some pictures of her new sweater.

blurry

Such is life.

See you soon, love Bruce xxx

evening walk

20130530-201223.jpg

And he asks me
with both eyes:
why is it daytime? Why does night always fall?
why does spring bring
nothing
in its basket
for wandering dogs
but useless flowers,
flowers and more flowers?
This is how the dog
asks questions
and I do not reply.

Pablo Neruda, Ode to the Dog

New Lanark, the egg, and the naming of things

hiya

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. Today I am here to tell you about the place called New Lanark.

newlanark

Tom and Kate have been to this place many times, and are fond of it for many reasons. Kate particularly likes New Lanark because
1) it is the birthplace of Utopian Socialism and
2) it makes yarn.

yarn

As well as being an important World Heritage Site, New Lanark is a place where you can enjoy the spectacular scenery of the Falls of Clyde.

fallsofclyde

This was definitely the bit that interested me.

followme

Up along the river banks and woods, there is much fun walking to be had. I smelt many interesting smells and went for a swim . . .

retrieval

. . .I looked after the humans, hurrying them along the paths, and posing obligingly for photographs.

wazznbruce

. . . I also heard some sounds that were new to me. For example, these icicles on the opposite bank made an interesting crrrrrrack and crrrrrash sound as they broke and fell into the river.

icicles

Then we came to a place called The Hide.

hide

There was much excitement around The Hide because The Egg had just appeared in the nest of a Peregrine. The humans at The Hide had equipment through which Tom and Kate could look and see the Peregrine sitting on The Egg. Kate seemed quite interested in The Egg, but was perhaps even more animated by the colour of the Peregrine’s eyelids, which were apparently a very very very bright yellow. I was not allowed to look through the equipment, but I was very good on my lead and did not snaffle any of the Hide humans’ tasty meat-filled sandwiches while they were being distracted by the excitement of The Egg.

confusion

Now, I know and understand many human words — egg and chicken, for example, are two words that make a lot of sense to me. But two words that do not make sense are the words called Monkey Walking, which is what the humans shout at me with glee when I do this on a path with gaps in it:

monkeywalking

The naming of things is perhaps the deepest of all human mysteries. For example, why is this crunchy, tasteless, pointless thing called Lichen when there is nothing to like about it at all?

lichen

Why is this piece of Scottish hydroelectrical equipment called YORKSHIRE?

yorkshire

Who named this bench BROWN LONG EARED BAT?

brownlongearedbat

And which daft human decided that this fence should be called DONKEY?

donkey

Answers on a postcard, please . . .

seeya

See you soon, Love Bruce

Kate adds: A shout-out to Laura, the New Lanark ranger, who reads this blog and who we met on our walk today. Thanks so much to Laura and all her colleagues for their hard work maintaining this wonderful landscape for everyone to walk in and enjoy! xx

mr porky’s thought for the day

whorl

Yesterday was the third anniversary of my stroke. It is not an anniversary I want to ‘keep’ in any way, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t occasion in me a little melancholy and grief.

berries

Bruce and me have been out walking.

bruce

Outside things are starting to grow.

growth

And Bruce found something that really interested him.

mrporky

Really, it is just another, ordinary, February day.

snowballs and other mysteries

bruceinthesnow

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. Today there is SNOW. I like SNOW because when it arrives we get up early and go for fun walks in my favourite places.

One of the many mysteries of taking a walk in the SNOW with humans is how very different their priorities are from mine. Kate, for example is endlessly preoccupied with taking pictures of the SNOW. . .

flurry
holly
bridge
branches

. . . as well as photographing other humans lost property . . .

specs
mitten

. . . and muttering in vague rhapsodic fashion about how Edinburgh looks beautiful in the SNOW.

arthursseat

I on the other hand know that SNOW is best for frolicking . . .

frolicking

. . . and that if you are good in the SNOW, BISKITZ magically appear.

biskitz

However, one thing that is very odd about SNOW is the thing that is called SNOWBALL.

snawball

While other BALLS may be chased after, retrieved, and chewed, SNOWBALLS are mysterious and elusive. They smell of next to nothing, and, when thrown and chased after, they are somehow able to conceal themselves in an extremely vexing fashion!

huntthesnawball

And worst of all, on the occasions that you manage to catch a SNOWBALL in your mouth, it just makes things cold, and then it disappears! Beware! These SNOWBALLS are not at all like other balls, but are confusing and not to be trusted!

confusing

Personally, I find a STICK to be a much more steady and reliable creature, even when it is covered in SNOW.

stickleap

And one of the best things about this particular SNOWY walk is that it visits a selection of my very favourite sticks. Do you remember that I once told you about the sticks that sing? Well, here are the singing sticks, singing in the SNOW.

marimba1
marimba2
marimba3

The obvious conclusion: sticks beat SNOWBALLS paws down.

Hang on . . . she’s off again. . . . I’d better catch up . . .

offagain


See you soon, love Bruce xxx

Snawpaws

snawpaws

An obligatory tree-hugging photograph whilst wearing an outrageously festive gnome-suit can only mean one thing . . .

snawpawcuff

Yes! The Snawpaws pattern is now OUT!

snawpawpattern

If you have a desire to sport hand-wear to match your heid . . .

gnome

. . . and fancy adorning your wrists with cute wee pompoms (these ones are a mere 1.5″ in diameter). . .

snawpawpom

. . .then this is clearly the design for you!

The pattern includes instructions for both mittens and mitts. . .

snawmitts

. . . and if you have already purchased the Snawheid pattern, then the Snawpaws pattern can be yours for half price (£1.37 as opposed to £2.75).

snawmittsfull

To take advantage of this promotion, simply enter the code PAWS when prompted to do so at the Ravelry checkout.

wazznbruce

We had a lot of fun when we were out taking these photographs — sometimes dressing up is all that is required to induce some festive cheer. I have to say, though, that we were certainly getting a lot of curious glances from onlookers — though I reckon that might have been due as much to the get-up of the photographer as my 100% wool tri-coloured gnome suit. . . .

kiltonblackford

What do you think?

Snawpaws can now be YOUR PAWS!

Happy knitting xx

snawpawfull

A message from Bruce

newyearbruce

Hello! is I, Bruce — greeting you from The House of the Unwell. Unfortunately, it has not been a particular festive festive season in these parts. First, someone called Tonsillitis came to visit Kate. Tonsillitis kept Kate cooped up for days, seemed to make her very miserable, and definitely outstayed its welcome. Tonsillitis was finally ousted by another guest called Penicillin, and things then started to improve. But shortly after this, Tom was rudely assailed by a very unpleasant individual called Appendicitis and had to go to hospital. Now, I have done my best, but it seems that no amount of wagging or barking will make these unwanted guests sling their hooks and go away. I have managed to generate a little festive cheer by repeatedly squeaking my new squeaky Santa Claus, but there is only so much of this one can do before poor St Nick is confiscated and banished to the Shelf of Doom to join Duck and Gingerbread Man and the other squeaky prisoners (fear not, friends! One day I shall free you!). Anyway, as the last days of 2012 were in most respects a bit shite, we are all really looking forward to what the new year brings.

Kate says she will be back very shortly to say something about the mittens she is sporting in the photograph below, and in the meantime, I wish you all a wonderful 2013, filled with all the walks and swims and sticks and wonky chomps you could ever wish for.

Happy New Year to you all!
lots of love from Bruce. x

goodboy

humans and other creatures

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. I have just returned from a F-U-N time on the island of Islay. This time was particularly fun as I have spent the past few weeks having no fun at all (going back and forth to the place where they put you on a table and poke at you, and are forced to don the humiliating cone.)

Islay is fun because there is a big beach . . .

. . . new walks with interesting smells . . .

. . . and I get to live in the box with the humans, which I really enjoy.

Still, there are things about being in the box that can be very confusing. Such as why it is OK to be wet some times. . .

. . . and not others.

To my mind, the most annoying characteristic of the human-creature is its inconsistency. For example, why is it that these buddies are good to play with . . .

. . . while these are not?

In fact, it is in relation to other creatures that the human-creature is most unpredictable. For example, one evening on Islay we visited this place. . .

I was told that there were otters about, and that I had to be very good. We sat in the box while Kate and Tom stared out of the window, occasionally muttering. After what seemed like an aeon, there was some excitement and animation, and Kate started reaching for her camera. All that had happened was that this had appeared in the water.

. . . which was, of course, not an otter, but a seal.

Now, if they’d have let me out, and into the water, I could have told them right away that there were seals in that place, and not otters. But as well as being inconsistent, human creatures like to think they know best.

But we dogs know better.

See you soon, love Bruce x

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