Daisy & Fred

When I set off on my main walk yesterday afternoon, my dad didn’t tell me I had a surprise in store; a really BIG surprise. Actually, TWO really BIG surprises:

Daisy (the black one) and Fred were waiting for me at the end of my road with their dad and my first thought was: ‘Wow! How much do you guys get to eat?’ Turns out they don’t get any more than me, which seems a bit unfair. They are just…well, BIG. Anyway, I took them on my long walk around the mountain and we had a really nice time—even if they can’t run as fast as Basta!

By the way, one of the things I like to do on my walks is run up and down very steep banks. My dad says I look like a goat, which I think is rather rude. What do you think?

How’s this for exciting?

My new family just keeps getting bigger and bigger! My dad’s son Simon, who lives in Australia with his wife, Becca, is going to have a baby. (Well, actually, Becca’s going to have the baby but you know what I mean.) That’s so exciting and I couldn’t wait to introduce you to:

Er,… We’re not sure yet: could be a Jack, could be a Jill—we’ll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile, Simon and Becca have sent me pictures of their other babies, Poppy and Millie:

How do they tell which one is which? Simon says that Poppy’s got a blue collar and Millie’s got a red one, but can you see any colours under all that hair? I wonder what they look like when they’re all wet and muddy?

That’s what I thought!

Another word on climate change

So, this is a picture of me and Basta on our walk this afternoon, nosing around in someone’s orchard. And, guess what we saw? Well, you probably won't be able to guess so I’ll show you:



That’s right: cherry blossom! And it’s only the third week in February and my dad says he reckons it’s about a month early, and my mum says she thinks we’re in for a really hot summer. That won’t bother me, I think, because—being from The Island in the Sun—I’m used to a bit of heat. But I am worried about Basta because she’s from Colorado where they have lots of snow, apparently, and it gets pretty cold, and I’m not sure how well she’ll cope.

Let me show you why. This is me when we were on our way home and, suddenly, I didn’t know where Basta was:

Where’s Basta?

Pooped was the answer, apparently:

And it was only 60 degrees today. What’s she going to do when those rays are really beating down, and she can’t find 800 rain puddles to drink from? I’m sure I don’t know.

Oh, by the way, Grizzle’s mum and dad are back from their long, long journey to Australia. I know that because I saw Simon (Grizzle’s dad) on the TV this morning, bringing us all the news that’s fit to hear. But Simon didn’t say anything about climate change, or about the HUGE carbon footprint he’s been stamping all over the atmosphere. Perhaps I should send him some cherry blossom?

Another cautionary tale

Reading the Washington Post online—as one does—I came across a very worrying story in the column, Hints from Heloise. There is this Labrador called Jack who ate lots and lots of plums in his mum’s garden and got very sick. Turns out that the stones you find in plums—and peaches, and nectarines, and many other fruits—contain strychnine and, if you eat too many of them, a puppy can die!

So, once again, please be very careful about what your puppy eats. If you want to read Jack’s story, follow this link. Hints From Heloise

Speaking of newspapers, my blog is now famous, apparently. That’s because The Nation, the leading paper in Barbados, has written about it! Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time…

And the reason is?

So, I waited for the post lady all morning, expecting to receive a ton (excuse me: in the EU that should be a tonne) of Valentine cards and received precisely…none! How, why, could that be? Perhaps they all got lost in the post, do you think?

But I did send a card to my new mum.

Well, some of us care…

Frankly, I’ve been worried…

…about this business of me being only half a Vizsla, and the other half a Lurcher—because Lurchers were originally dogs bred by gypsies as poachers, thieves! But the other day, when I raised this thorny subject with Laura, my Barbados mum, she reminded me that things are not always what they seem. This is what she wrote:

“Darling Josie Bell: We discussed this, didn't we? I know that 'Vizsla' was written on your papers, but that was because the vet here in Barbados said we needed to be precise about what breed you actually are—which did pose a wee bit of a problem, didn’t it? I could hardly say “Mother AND Father unknown”; we didn't want the whole world to know, did we? So we maintained the self-evident truth: that your Father was of Hungarian aristocratic descent, while your mother was a wild, beautiful, raven-haired gypsy dog with whom he fell passionately in love. You were the result of that ecstatic union. What do you reckon?”

Sounds pretty good to me.

What do you do if they won’t let you sleep on the bed?

Sleep under it!

Can you read Bajan?

Just when I thought I might have been forgotten back in my homeland, I received this lovely email:

From: Hunt, Elizabeth [luppaloula@sunbeach.net]
To: josie@menerbes.net
Cc:
Subject: “Hello” from some pals in Barbados

Josie muh gyrl -
How yuh doin dere in Frenchy land? Are they giving yuh some good flyin' fish and coucou? And what about breadfruit? Don't touch dem snails hear - dem is nasty like de big slugs yuh pick up under de garbage pail. Stay sweet "ma petite choux de fleur" like duh say up dere.

From everybody at Central Vet Clinic in Barbados, where you got your Bajan passport. Stay cool dread.

Liz, Karen, Michelle, Ali, Harry, Gus, Debbie.
oxoxoxoxoxox

I’m sure that’s all perfectly clear?

Another picture of moi (Sigh!)

This was me on my walk today, looking to see what Basta had found.

My best friend!

This is Basta, who I love to go for walks with. I’ll bet you can tell how much fun she is! This great picture was taken by her dad. THANKS MARK!

And this is me and Basta running, which we do a lot.

Another email—and two more friends!

So, this is VIP and Aston (VIP stands for Very Important Pet) who also live in Provence and they sent me an email saying they want to go for walks with me! Apparently, they like chasing cats, which makes their mum really mad, but they do it anyway. Sound like my kind of guys! I’ll let you know how we get on.

A cautionary tale

Basta—my new, very-best friend—and me (or is it I?) went for a walk today, which was a huge relief. Because Basta’s been terribly sick for almost a week, and I want to tell you why.

When Basta and I go for our walks we like to eat some of the things we find: dung, dead frogs, road kill—that sort of thing. My mum’s always saying “Leave it!” in that very stern voice of hers, and usually we do. But last week Basta managed to eat some of the unpicked grapes that, at this time of the year, lie on the ground in the vineyards, fermented and full of sugar, and that would be okay—except that the stems contain some nasty toxic substance that can cause renal failure, whatever that might mean.

It means a puppy can die is what it means!

Or, at least, that’s what my nice vet, Patrice, said when my mum told him what Basta had been up to and that she was feeling extremely poorly. So, anyway, then Basta’s mum rushed her to the clinic to see the vet, and Basta was given heaps of tests and injections, and loads of medicines.

Now Basta’s feeling better, and we can go for our walks again, but it was a close-run thing apparently. Phew!

Watch what your puppy eats! is the lesson, I think. And, however much we want to, don’t let us eat grapes or raisins, please.

Carbon on my mind

Because I’ve gone “green”, I was very interested to see Simon—Grizzle’s dad—on television the other day talking about climate change, carbon emissions, global warming, the end of the planet, etc. Simon said it was a very serious problem, and he said that in the very serious voice he uses whenever he’s reporting on something…well, very serious. But what he didn’t say on TV was that he and Grizzle’s mum are about to go on holiday to Australia, which is miles away from England, apparently. So, I asked my dad to calculate how much carbon their flights will be pumping into the atmosphere and—after quite a long while, I thought—my dad said it was 7.4 tonnes.

Obviously I asked, “What’s a tonne?”

“Well,” said my dad, “imagine the equivalent of 50 puppies of your weight. That’s one tonne. So, 7.4 tonnes equals 370 Josies.”

Wow! That’s an awful lot of puppies to put into the atmosphere, don’t you think?

So, when Grizzle’s dad was being very serious about carbon emissions, global warming, climate change, etc, perhaps he was only kidding?

If you’re worried about Grizzle, don’t be. While her mum and dad are off polluting the atmosphere, Grizzle gets to stay with her grandparents, who are really great, apparently.

Oh, by the way, this a picture of my mum and dad’s garden in the south of France taken today:

And, this is a picture of their garden, taken exactly a year ago:

Notice the difference? (The white stuff is snow, apparently—whatever that is!) Climate change? You be the judge.

Two new friends

Another day, another email. This one came from two puppies called Branston and Pickle and they sent me pictures of themselves.

Ah, how cute! Branston is a boy and Pickle is a girl and they live in England with their mum and dad, Gill and Mark. I hope I get to meet them one day.

And, talking of cute, this is a photograph of one of my cats that I haven’t been allowed to play with yet.

Her name is Rabbit, apparently, and she’s not very pleased with me because the sofa in my dad’s office where I spend most of my time used to be hers, and she wants it back. What a shame! I saw her this morning, peeking in through the window, so I barked at her and she ran away. Guess that means the sofa’s still mine.