It all started with an email. No wait, it started a while before that. A friend has a Lhasa Apso called Cindy that my good lady and I have looked after a couple of times. Lhasa Apsos are small dogs and the way I describe them is that they’re bigger than the sort of handbag dogs Paris Hilton has, can be dragged up mountains (because they’re tough), but are not exactly what you’d call macho dogs. They are, however, cute.

So we’ve looked after this dog a couple of times and because she’s such an easy going pooch we started thinking that some time we should get one (as you may remember me writing about here). Then Cindy’s owner sent her dog off to the stud farm to get pregnant, and a little while later she gave birth to 3 gorgeous pups. These little beasties:

We were very tempted to get one of them but in the end decided not to. My good lady was between jobs, I was office based and we just weren’t ready to go through puppy training yet so decided that the next time Cindy had puppies we’d get one. And then I got an email. You know, the one I mentioned earlier.

My good friend Ben emailed to tell me that his parents (who live in the middle of nowhere in the Yorkshire Dales) had came across a lost dog that had appeared at their door wet, skinny and in need of help. Oh, and he was a Lhasa Apso. They were going off on holiday so dropped him off with friends who have a couple of other dogs. They took this little lad in, fed him up and cleaned him up. It turned out he belonged to a local elderly lady who had quite a few dogs and couldn’t really take good care of them. Her children were trying to re-home some of her dogs and apparently a couple of them had run away, one of which was this little Lhasa. He was impeccably well behaved, very chilled out and adorable by all accounts. She signed over ownership “to whom it may concern” and it was time to find a home for this unfortunate little pooch. Which was where Ben’s email came in.

His parents had fallen in love with the little guy but travel a lot so weren’t sure they’d be the best people to take ownership of him but didn’t want him to end up at a rescue centre. Since Ben knew we liked Lhasa Apsos and had been tempted to get a dog he asked if maybe, possibly, we might be tempted to give him a home. My good lady had just found a job, I’d just changed roles meaning I’d be working from home a lot more and the planets seemed to be aligning so I say “yes”. Ben said there was no pressure to take him, however just a few days later we found ourselves driving into to the middle of nowhere in the Yorkshire Dales (it really was the middle of nowhere) to see this dog and I’d already bought the bare essentials: a dog bed, lead, collar, shampoo, brush and some bowls:

I’d also ordered a dog tag with his name and my mobile number on it. So you can tell we were feeling pretty positive. Turns out our optimism was justified. Little “Billy” turned out to be the most chilled out, well behaved dog I’ve ever met. Gorgeous and most definitely coming home with us!

The first couple of nights were tough as we wanted him to sleep in the kitchen and he barked for both nights. Eventually he’s settled down though and has been an absolute joy ever since. He’s 2 years and 9 months old and the nice thing about not getting a puppy is he was already house trained. He’d not been taught the usual dog commands like “sit”, “stay”, “roll over” or even responding to his own name (the latter which he now is – he’s a fast learner) but he does what we want him to do and Cesar Millan (the Dog Whisperer) wouldn’t even be interested – Billy’s already a calm submissive, well behaved dog that most certainly doesn’t need Cesar’s help!

Anyway, as well as giving us endless fun and companionship he’s also extremely photogenic so I expect he’ll be making an appearance in most things I post here from now on!

Say hello to Billy!

I’ve always been a cat person. Maybe I liked to think of a cat as the animal equivalent of me. Sleek, lean, athletic, an independent thinker, a ruthless killing machine – no wait, that’s not right. OK, the real reason is that I like the fact that cats look after themselves, they’re low maintenance with maximum reward. So you can sit in your mountain-top fortress scheming and planning while stroking your cat on your lap, getting all that relaxation and concentration you need to outwit the good guys. And when you’re done you can throw the cat away, get one of your minions to feed it and then it’ll walk itself – low maintenance!

But over the past couple of years I’ve started to change my mind about cats and dogs. The more I’ve interacted with friends dogs the more I’ve started to see the benefits in having one. They’re lots of fun, give unconditional love, they encourage you to get out and exercise, they’re like a member of the family and best of all, unlike a wife you get to tell them what to do and they do it!

Anyway, the more dogs I saw the more I started to like them and when another friend brought their very cute and well behaved Lhasa Apso to the house (pictured right) I really started to think that maybe we should get a dog. Around this time we started watching The Dog Whisperer. For those of you who’ve never seen it, the premise is that people with problem dogs (aggressive, out of control, etc) call in dog expert Cesar Millan who comes along and very quickly sorts everything out. But the most interesting thing to me is that in all cases it’s not the dog that’s the problem, it’s always the owner.

Every few years in the UK there’s a horror story about a pit bull attacking a child, causing hideous damage and the press (and Government) bang home the point that certain breed of dogs are dangerous and should be exterminated. Indeed if you own a pit bull in the UK it’ll be destroyed under the Dangerous Dogs Act. But you know what? It’s all complete bullshit. The only reason dogs like pit bulls become aggressive is because the owners, unwittingly or otherwise, let them behave that way. The problem is that humans instinctively humanise dogs, treating them like they’re children and expect them to respond in the same way that children do.

What The Dog Whisperer demonstrates episode after episode is that dogs are instinctively followers, and when they are they’re calm and submissive and easy to live with. But if they feel that there’s not a pack leader (to a dog you and it are members of a pack) then they’ll step up to the role which means they’ll be more aggressive since defending and disciplining the pack is the job of the pack leader. If they see another dog they’ll impose their authority and try to dominate that dog too. However if you’re the pack leader the dog will hold back and look to you because it’s your job to decide if another dog is OK or not. But the real problem is that a dog only sees the world through a dog’s eyes and if you don’t assert yourself as pack leader in a dog-understandable way then you won’t be the pack leader in its eyes.

People will often shout at dogs to try and get them to do what they want. But really to communicate to a dog you don’t need to say a word, it’s all about your posture and body language. If you watch how dogs interact with each other you’ll notice they do it silently. A touch in the right place at the right time with the right intensity communicates in a far more meaningful way to a dog than a thousand words can. Dogs also mirror your emotions – so if you’re tense and nervous then the dog will be tense and nervous. If a nervous dog meets a couple of relaxed dogs you’ll notice that in most cases the relaxed dogs will pick up on the other dog’s nervousness and then you’ve got 3 fidgety dogs!

If you’re hesitant or not assertive when you instruct your dog to stop eating your shoes then your dog will take that hesitancy as a sign of weakness, look down on you as a lower pack member and carry on chewing. But if you prod it to switch its attention and “own” the shoes by standing over them in a confident way, the dog will get the message and back away. At least, that’s the overly simplified summary. Cesar has a complete understanding of dog psychology and can read situations before they occur and correct a dog before it gets into an excited state.

I guess that’s the thing us mere mortals can’t do so easily but it’s fun to see it done properly. And it shows me that with a bit of work and understanding of a dog’s point of view you can have a happy, calm, submissive dog and a happy life. And with the right owner a pit bull can be a far nicer, safer dog around children than an overly-pampered, humanised chihuahua. It’s not about the dog, it’s always about the owner.

…because there’s a duck nesting in my garden again!

The first year we had ducks nesting we were like concerned parents. We’d be constantly checking to see if she was OK, wondering if we should put water and food out, on the look-out for cats all the time, panicking if she’d left the nest and hoping she was coming back and just generally worrying. Since this is the third year now we’re a lot more laid back about the process. We just leave her to get on with it. She knows what she’s doing and she doesn’t need us to do anything other than stay out of her way.

In fact the only thing we need to do is keep an eye out for when the chicks hatch since there’s no way for them to get out of the garden unless we leave the gate open! Shouldn’t be long now.

That’s not a question I ever thought I’d find myself asking but from just after I got out of bed this morning I’ve been wondering exactly that. It seems that a not-quite-fully-matured swan has decided to call my front lawn its home for the time being and has been splitting its time between cleaning itself, sleeping and flapping it’s impressively large wings at my good lady when she came back from the shops!

I was planning on cleaning and vaccing my car today but I’m not entirely sure our new visitor would be happy about that:

Since I don’t get very close to swans all that much I forget just how big the things are – that neck’s about as thick as my arm! According to our neighbours it’s been there since at least 8am this morning so I’m expecting it to wander off and get some food / drink at some point (according to the advice I’ve read you shouldn’t feed swans on land as it encourages them to seek out food from people which brings them into contact with dogs and other tricky situations). Still, it doesn’t seem too bothered about me and was happy to demonstrate swan yoga to me with my camera pointing:

I’m not sure what it is about my garden but it really does seem to attract all sorts of interesting animals such as the ducklings we had last year and long may it continue. But I don’t fancy having to battle my way past an angry swan every time I want to go out to the garage or head off to work!

My dad has had a cat named Sparkie for the last five years, since just after my mother died. Sparkie’s been his constant companion and given him purpose, routine and been someone to talk to who never talks back (only meowing back which is much nicer) for all that time.

We’ve had a few cats over the years but Sparkie was originally brought up on a farm before my dad got him from the cat protection league so was a bit of a wildie, fighting off the local cats, bringing in mice from time to time and jumping up on every surface in the house. Whereas my dad’s getting on a bit Sparkie’s always been full of youthful exuberance in the way that only a young cat is, which I’m sure has been good for my dad. I took the following picture of him a couple of weeks ago when I was home and he was just his usual lovely, entertaining self and being very friendly:

Unfortunately a few days ago little Sparkie died. Cut down in the prime of his life at the age of around 8 it all happened very quickly in the end. It’s such a shame as he was a wonderful cat with a fantastic personality and he did my dad no end of good – I don’t know how my dad would have coped over that last few years without him. But the real shame is that I could never thank him for being there for my dad when he needed him because he was a cat and wouldn’t have understood the positive impact he had – he was just being himself. So thank you Sparkie, you will be sorely missed.

Fresh from watching our duck taking her chicks away we continued our weekend by attending the annual Skipton Sheep Day. This event is held on the first Sunday of July every year and it took us several years to actually attend. Every year since I moved to Yorkshire I'd see the sign a couple of weeks before Sheep Day and realise I was away that weekend and couldn't make it. Then a couple of years ago we made sure we were around to attend and it was well worth it. From the sheep shearing to the owl demonstrations to the duck herding (yep, you heard it right). It was a wonderful afternoon although I forgot to bring my camera. Not so this time! Cue some more cute duckling photos (I've seen more ducklings this weekend than in a year):

Last year we were away on Sheep Day (as usual) but this time our friends were staying with us so we just had to take them along. Since there's been rather a lot of rain lately it came as no surprise that it torrentially rained most of the day. However the skies cleared as soon as the sheep dogs came out to show us their stuff. Since Sheep Day takes place in the middle of the high street, there isn't enough room to demonstrate them herding sheep so ducks and geese have to suffice instead.

This was very entertaining as they really didn't want to play along – they were like naughty children – and the sheep dog had to work twice as hard as it should have!

After the ducks and geese were herded and cajoled into their pens it was time for some good old-fashioned sheep shearing. Instead of using the high-tech electric shears they demonstrated the old-fashioned ones which involved wrestling the sheep to the ground, holding it fast and carefully giving it a short back and sides with a pair of giant scissors. I think it's one of these things that looks easy but in fact requires a certain knack to do!

What's surprising is that the average fleece is only worth around 35p which gives you an idea of the fine margins farmers work under these days. Sounds like a tough way to make a living if you ask me. Anyway, there was also a farmers market (where we spent a bit of money) and some sort of show going on but the thunderstorms were coming back and our friends had to head home so we left. But we'll be back next year for more – and if you're anywhere near Skipton on the first Sunday in July I suggest you go along too!

I was fast asleep this morning, probably dreaming about tornadoes, when I was rudely awoken by the sound of mayhem in my garden. As I was jolted fully awake I realised it must have been the duck nesting in our garden as I could hear incessant quacking. Looking out of the window was such a lovely sight – it was our duck leading her flock of newly hatched chicks around the decking!

Since it's Saturday morning we knew we didn't have to go to work and could finally follow them around to see where they go. After letting her chicks frolic around she herded them together, somehow instructing them to rally underneath her and then spent around an hour keeping them warm while having a bit of shut-eye:

Then, with the flap of a wing, she decided it was time to move on and she started leading them in a line at a fair pace down our street with us and our friends (who were staying with us) in tow:

They were absolutely adorable and once other neighbours spotted what we were watching they came along to enjoy the spectacle. The duck then led her chicks down a cul de sac – much to our puzzlement as it was not towards water – and then proceeded to have a drink stop at a pond in one of the gardens. After that we decided to leave her to it and not interfere with what she was doing – it was clear that she had a plan.

And with that our duck and her chicks walked out of our life. I hope we'll see them again soon! 

So just to recap, last year we had a duck nesting in our garden and she had 14 chicks. Then a couple of months ago our duck came back and reared about 16 chicks. My good lady missed the new chicks as she went to work that morning without first doing a duck check (you should always do a duck check in the morning) and she was gutted. However, a couple of weeks ago I saw something swooping out of the sky from the corner of my eye and you'll never guess what it was… It was another duck! She landed in the garden and walked over to the same patch (just behind the lavendar) and nestled down on her newly created nest!

So that's going to be 2 lots of chicks raised in our garden this year in a plant bed measuring about a metre deep by 4 metres wide! Unbelievable. I guess we're getting a reputation in the local duck community as a safe haven for rearing chicks. I'll make sure this time I take the morning off when they hatch so I can get loads of pictures and some video of them frolicking around and formation marching to water!