Harry has had a lot to digest over the last few weeks, literally in some cases. He has once again proven himself a worthy hunter of dead rabbits – in his case the deader the better – having appeared with rabbit limbs in his mouth on several occasions. Needless to say this is not a welcome addition to the daily routine and we hoping against hope that the rabbits in the field are previously unseen hibernating variety, so that we can have a few months off scrubbing the stink of dead rabbit from Harry’s coat.
There was another first for Harry last week - tractor and plant machinery in the field!!! He wasn’t too bad, relying on his tried and tested method of discovering new things which generally follows these lines:
1. Don’t move – I need to lie here and consider the situation
2. I’m pretty sure I’m not about to get attacked, time to walk slowly towards the offending article,
3. It pays to be safe, best grunt and growl to make sure I’m not being tricked
4. I’m going to carry on my walk now, what was all the fuss about, you weren’t scared were you?
5. On next encountering exact same new thing, in exact same location, repeat above safety measures.
6. Continue for about 2 days until fully satisfied that said new thing is completely safe.
In this case the repeat performances were cut short by the appearance of his best friend Dudley at which point they decided to play 'chase' around the tractor. I don’t think I need say more.
This weekend Harry went on his first road-trip. The purpose of said trip was two-fold, to reacquaint him with his uncle Bill, and to say hello to granny and grandpa Batsford.
We arrived on Friday evening after a very uneventful car journey when we discovered that most of the music we listen to puts Harry to sleep. It was a rookie mistake to take this as good news – a sleeping dog is quite clearly a newly energized dog waiting to happen. He was slightly unsettled by the newness of his uncle Bill’s house and that, combined with the rest he’d had on the journey meant that he managed, within a few hours, to chew his way through Bill's doormat and doorstep and sniff out the hunting potential of the large koi carp in the even larger pond. He also whined so much Saturday night that I ended up sleeping with him on a slate floor in the kitchen (and my back will never forgive me for that).
Sunday was less physically painful with us taking him for a long walk at a country park with Keith's parents. My chest is fully puffed out with pride when I say we were SO proud of him. He introduced himself very politely (rolled on his back at his granny’s feet, the little flirt) ran with her, sat, rolled over, stayed and returned on command, played well with a few other dogs and generally melted every heart within a 20ft radius. I’m told there were even mutterings of “can we get a Harry” by the end of the walk although I am unable to confirm or deny this.
He was also spoiled rotten by Keith’s parents with treats and a very cool tennis ball on a rope which he is studiously destroying. The tennis ball looks like it has mange and the rope is doing a valiant job in the face of some persuasive chewing.