LOL and BOL confusion

When Gail has her radio on in the morning I keep hearing about this thing called the 'Leveson Inquiry'. Something to do with investigating the relationship between politicians and the press, I believe. It's been going on, like, forever.

One fact emerged recently that most folk here will actually remember. Apparently our Prime Minister David Cameron used to sign off texts to Rupert Murdoch's UK henchwoman Rebecca Brooks with 'LOL' DC, under the mistaken impression that this meant 'Lots Of Love'.

Well I thought this was just hilarious. Who could be so ignorant? And then Gail confessed, very quietly to me, that when she first came across this text usage, she too was under the same misapprehension as Mr Cameron. The only difference being that she never used it in text messages to the most powerful woman in the British media.

But now I am worried about a related matter. I have been most neglected this week as Gail has been involved in some rush project at her new workplace. Up till now I had bought the line that Gail had a serious job, worth the sacrifice of spending less time with me.

And then I find see she has brought home some work-related papers and every other word in them is 'BOL'.

Bark Out Loud, surely?

BOL reports....The BOL estimate for reserves of gas is.... BOL is a unique entity in the North Sea.... The asset is operated by BOL....

Well I am puzzled. Is Gail working with a bunch of other dog bloggers? Do they really spend all their time laughing. Why have I not been invited to join in?

Oh. Gail is telling me that BOL in her work context does NOT mean Bark Out Loud.

Should I be disappointed or relieved?

Request for promotion

Dear VisitWoods Project Leader,

As you know, I have been working as an Assistant Web Guide Volunteer on the Visit Woods project for the last couple of months.  I hope you are pleased with my work to date. I have been taking my new role very seriously.

Several of my canine blog friends (well, one or two) have suggested to me that I deserve a more elevated title, and that a promotion to  'Associate Web Guide Volunteer' is in order. On reflection, I believe that they are right. Organisations being what they are these days, I understand that a promotion cannot be offered to any random dog that demands it, and that I need to make a solid case in support of my request. Now let me see....

Well first, I would like to stress the unique nature of my contribution to the Visit Woods project. Which other of your volunteers has so sensitive a nose and so cute an appearance? Let's be honest, a tree looks much more interesting with a wire-haired fox terrier posed in front, and of course the fact that I stand 17" high at the shoulder provides a useful reference scale.

Next, I think you should be aware I have made not inconsiderable personal sacrifices in the line of duty. For example, did you know that, after my inspection of Countesswells Wood, I was subjected to my first ever bath with shampoo?!!! And that on my 15 km run around Pitfichie, following Gail and Mike on their mountain bikes, I was so exhausted by the end that I kept running in the wrong direction? A situation made all the more embarrassing when it became clear that my companions border terrier Bonnie and toy poodle Jack completed the circuit with no apparent difficulty?

My high level of enthusiasm for 'meet and greet' activities should also be noted. How many other of your volunteers will cheerfully bounce up to and jump all over other woodland visitors, fondly licking any accessible bare flesh and establishing a special form of intimacy by fervently sniffing the area I believe humans refer to as their, er, crotch?

The heroic role I played in preventing a wee human volunteer from being crushed by a Forestry Commission vehicle has been documented elsewhere. (I am considering initiating legal proceedings against those who maintain that this interpretation of events in Durris Forest is incorrect).

My scientific credentials will be obvious to anyone who has perused the 'Bertie Boffin's Science Posts' page of my blog.

Last week I participated in an extra-curricular Woodland Trust activity, namely the Ancient Tree Hunt in Glen Finglas. I believe that this sort of thing earns one extra brownie points. The montage below illustrates my conscientious efforts, hunting out fat, gnarly alder and birch trees, overseeing accurate recording of data and patiently posing as a mascot. This is probably not the right place to express my disappointment that at the end of the day, unlike the human volunteers present, I was not awarded a certificate commending my contribution, but I thought I'd just mention it anyway...

click on picture to biggify

Well, all in all, I think it is clear that an upgrading of my status within your organisation is well overdue. Should further evidence be needed, please do get in touch.

I  look forward to receiving official confirmation of my new rank forthwith.

Yours faithfully,
B. Bertie of Aberdeen.

Pipe cleaners? And farewell to Wilf

Gail says I am lucky that pipe smoking is no longer in fashion, else someone might find an alternative use for my front legs...

PS A fond final goodbye to our dear blog friend Wilf, who delighted so many of us for so long. Heartfelt thanks to Angus for sharing his story.

Biking Bertie?

Oh a riot!

No, silly, of course I wasn't really involved in a riot.

But can you spot the anagram...?

Last Sunday was my long anticipated Deeside rendezvous with my wiry pal HORATIO.

He is the best company ever.

Horatio and his family (including golden cocker spaniel Tilly) were on holiday, staying in a house on the Queen's Balmoral Estate. We all met up on Sunday for a walk in the hills near Ballater. Here's a team photo taken at the finish.

Left to right: Amanda, Bertie, Horatio, Scott, Tilly, Sylvia

Gail persuaded me to dress for the occasion in my red tartan scarf. Doesn't it blend nicely with Scott's splendid socks?

By the way, we are NOT kissing in the above photo. Oh no. That would be girlie, and we are rather boisterous boys, even if Horatio does still need training in how to pee the manly way.

Talking of boisterous, does your human ever exhort you to "play nicely"?

It's a phrase I hear a lot.

The problem is, I've come to realise, humans and wire-haired fox terriers have different ideas about what constitutes playing nicely (as was clear in Durris Forest with wee Kate).

Well I'm delighted to report that Horatio and I are in perfect agreement that chasing around at top speed and jumping on each other, accompanied by lots of barking and growling is just the nicest sort of recreation. Oh we had a fine old time of it, even if it was Horatio doing most of the chasing and me the running away... And Gail claims she still has a bruise on her shin from when I crashed into her at full tilt during one of our games. 

However, the best bit of the day was lunch. (When isn't it?)

This wee video illustrates the peaceful scene.

I hope you noticed how well Horatio and I acted as a team, me as decoy whilst he raided the backpack...

After lunch, Horatio insisted on washing his paws in a ditch, which I found most extraordinary. Especially as, having jumped in, he couldn't figure a way out. 

Perhaps there is something in this idea that WFT's are crackers after all....

But come on, you couldn't possibly deny that we make a perfect pair? 

If only Gail would bring a brother home for me.

Oh, by now I expect you are wondering what happened to that promised leg lifting tutorial? Well to be perfectly honest, with all the excitement, I clean forgot about it. And then, when right at the end of the outing I did remember, my young pupil was too tired to lift even a paw.

Durris: one wood, two stories...

You know what?

It turns out that I am not the only AWGV* working on the VisitWoods project. And possibly not even the cutest.

Meet wee Kate.

She came along to Durris Forest with her Mum Cathy, who, like Gail, is an 'official' Web Guide Volunteer.

Kate seems very keen and intrepid. While I was patiently posing by the entrance to the wood... 

... young Kate was off and away exploring the forest tracks all by her ownsome, well equipped with her smart ladybird backpack and integral hood.

 

It is a most enticing place, for dogs and humans. 

Now there are two versions of why Kate is here being held high in the arms of her Mum, and I am skulking in the background.

My story is that I ran up to wee Kate, jumped on her and barked loudly, simply to warn her to keep clear of the oncoming forestry vehicle, so she didn't end up looking like a companion to Flat George.

Gail's story is that (and yes she actually said these words when we got home) "Bertie you were being such a brat, getting all excited and scaring the poor little girl over and over again. Really, Kate was very brave, and Cathy most tolerant and gracious about your appalling behaviour. You need to learn how to conduct yourself calmly around little humans. Nobody would ever believe that you spent the first two months of your life in a household with five young children. I'm quite ashamed of you. And you are usually so well behaved when we go out for hikes. Whatever happened? No wonder Cathy in the end decided to lift her precious daughter safely out of reach. You'll be staying on a short lead for the whole walk next time."

Gosh Gail did go on. 

Whose version do you believe?

*AWGV - Assistant Web Guide Volunteer

They should have called for me!

What's the point of having a fox terrier in your neighbourhood if he's ignored in times of need?

Harrumph.

Gail and I were returning from our walk in the park this morning when we ran into Harry Schnauzer and his human, Alan. We stopped for a wee blether.

I am SO ENVIOUS of Harry. You'll see why.

After some boring preamble about weather and the importance of dogs being contained in the back of a car so as not to interfere with the driving (as if), Alan then casually observes to Gail, "we could have done with Bertie round our place last week".

My little flappy ears prick up.

Apparently Alan and family have, or rather had, two elderly rabbits in a cage in their back garden. One night in April a fox was spotted, sat on top of the cage, unable to figure out a way in. Well I could have told them foxes don't give up so easily. Foxes and fox terriers are well matched you see.

So anyway, a few days after the initial sighting, Alan's wife Jeanette goes into the garden first thing, and finds an empty cage and rabbit entrails strewn across the grass.

The horror.

If only I had been called in earlier.

And where were the rest of the rabbit remains? Where was Harry?

Well before long, out came Harry from behind a bush. I guess it's hard to smile when your jaw is crammed full with the limb of a much loved family pet, but I know fine well that inside he was grinning from ear to flappy (like mine) schnauzer ear.

I'll say it again. I am jealous.