a little snow

brackensnow

Everything is relative: I am sure that those of you in North America, who have been shovelling the white stuff for months, will not be in the least excited to hear that it actually snowed, but here, where winter has been horribly dank and soggy thus far, it is an exceedingly welcome change. It is the cold, crisp, crunchy days that get me through the Winter: there have been far too few of them and I confess that the sight of this in the morning made me foolishly happy.

snowfirs
snowonthecampsies
snowdumgoyne
snowgate

Bruce is also in a good mood.

flakybruce
bruce1
bruce2
bruce3
bruce4

I love to walk in the snow, and we spent a good couple of hours out there this morning in the silence, with no other folk in sight. Birds seemed everywhere, immediately spotted against the landscape’s white blanket. As well as the usual neighbourhood woodpecker and buzzards I saw an osprey by the loch and a hen harrier hovering above the snow-covered fields. The birds are pairing up: this cold snap has come late, and there are already signs of Spring.

snowgorse

I wonder how the bulbs I planted will fare.

Well, its back to my desk. I have my first post-stroke driving lesson tomorrow – wish me luck!

whwsnow

The life and death of Big Ball

hiya

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. This morning an extremely curious thing occurred, so I am here to tell you all about it.

The curious thing began with the appearance of the postie, who had a parcel for Tom. Inside the parcel was a box with this jolly person on the front of it.

one

Intriguing! Apparently the box contained Big Ball, and Tom required Big Ball to perform tricks and throw shapes such as this

two

These are quite impressive shapes, but, as I said to Tom, there are much better things to do with Big Ball, such as chase it, jump at it and chew it. (Prescient words, as we will see).

Oddly, the first thing to come out of box was not Big Ball at all but this Squashy Thing:

three

Tom began squeezing at Squashy Thing. Then Squashy Thing started huffing and puffing and making strange whistling sounds. I became excited, and began to bark, and then was told to leave the room. Such is life.

But when I was permitted to return, guess what I discovered?

four

BIG BALL!

five

Big Ball was large, and rather vexing, and impossible to catch. Clearly the best thing to do was to corner the chuffer.

six

Havoc ensued. It was mooted that I was playing with Big Ball too vigorously, and I was told to SIT.

seven

So Tom and I decided to go outside to play with Big Ball . . .

eight

. . .then I jumped happily at Big Ball and . . .

nine

Big Ball’s disappearance was sudden, loud, and mystifying. All that remained were a few woeful scraps, which it was clearly my duty to destroy.

ten

The appearance, and disappearance of things is one of life’s greatest mysteries. Who can say why the cold white stuff turns to water whenever I chew it? Why toys enter the evil beast called Washing Machine, and are never the same afterwards, or why Big Ball suddenly disappears? While I was musing on these important matters, Tom popped out for a while. When he returned, events took a rather sinister turn.

bigball2

Who is this imposter? And what have they done with Big Ball?

today . . .

home

There has been some snow.

rumbled

Bruce was rumbled, sleeping in Tom’s chair . . .again

penguins

And only 5 penguins remain on my advent calendar.

Which reminds me: today is the last day for orders if you’d like a book or kit from my online shop. My postie will hoik the last sack of parcels away tomorrow and I’ll be taking a wee break from packing for a couple of weeks. We are all looking forward to a holiday here – hope you are too!

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

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

the highlands and the hunky bunk

greetings

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. Today I am pleased, because, after a long break for the Winter, the walking and camping times have begun again! This particular walking and camping time was a surprise, because the weather is good, and Tom has not yet begun New Job. We packed up the van, and set off for West Highlands, a place in which Tom and Kate always seem very happy.

highlandwazz

In West Highlands there is excellent walking to be had, and many interesting smells that I do not smell in other places. These smells are because of the big deer buddies, with whom I am not allowed to play. Indeed, an interesting feature of West Highlands is the prevalence of fences and gates, which are there to keep the buddies IN and me OUT. As you can see, however, the buddies sometimes get OUT . . .

stag

. . . and (with human assistance) I can get IN.

closethegate

These gates are mystifying machines. Try as I might, I cannot operate them.

The best thing about West Highlands is that we go for lovely long walks. This time we walked up hills and through woods. . .

walkingbuddies

and then we walked along the side of the water. All of this was fun.

water

Afterwards, we went to camp in the place that is called Bridge of Orchy.

Boo

The place is called Bridge of Orchy because of this:

bridge

The Bridge. Of Orchy.

At Bridge of Orchy it became very cold. I am often told that I have a nice thick coat, but although this is true, I do not have extra woolly clothes and fluffy bags to keep me warm in Extreme Highland Conditions. The humans have these things, and though they were cold, they were not as cold as I. Then a very exciting thing happened. Because I was cold, I was allowed to get on the hunky bunk with the humans for the first time ever! It was cold on the floor, but it was warm on the hunky bunk with three of us, and so we all slept there together! This was very good. All I can say is, now I know just how good it is on the hunky bunk, I shall definitely expect to sleep there at all times. I shall ignore all human mutterings of “this is not a precedent” and suchlike — YES! ITS THE HUNKY BUNK FOR ME!!

In the morning, there was ice all over the van, and the water had frozen in the pipes. And then we discovered that the van had run out of cooking gas. Kate was extremely worried that she would not be able to have her requisite Giant Cup of Tea, but disaster was averted by Tom, who is the keeper of all equipment, and who had the forethought to bring the spare camping stove.

disasteraverted

Giant cups of tea were drunk, I snaffled half a hot cross bun, and everyone was happy.

highlandbruce

See you soon, love Bruce xxx

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

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

snawheid is here

Good morning! It is I, Bruce. I am here to tell you about the release of Kate’s latest hat design. This hat, which is called “Snawheid” features a large fluffy ball that I’m unfortunately not allowed to savage.

Did you know that I play a crucial role in all of Kate’s photoshoots? Well I do. That’s right — I am the indispensable styling assistant.

The first part of my job as styling assistant is to find a Nice Big Stick and present Kate with it.

Then I fly by with Big Stick just as Tom has set up his photograph.

Finally, I relax and chew Stick while Tom shouts “get out of the shot, Bruce.”

And if you’re really lucky, I’ll even conjure up a rainbow.

Happy Knitting, love Bruce x

Kate adds: with massive pompom-sized thanks to Jen Arnall Culliford, the snawheid pattern is now available here.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 5,608 other followers