Chapter Nine

Sunday, Nov. 12

Hi Everybody, we are back from Colorado.

I had a great trip. Having lived in the West for 3 weeks, I guess I can say that as well as being a traveling dog and a show dog, I am now a Western dog. Just call me the Butterscotch Kid. I draw the line, though, at being called a Prairie dog. We were taking a walk in a sort of park in Colorado, where a bunch of kids were making notes of things they had seen, and their teacher spotted me, and said, "Hey, there's a prairie dog to add to your list". I don't think so. We did visit a Prairie dog town later in the trip, but it was in a national park, so I couldn't chase them. Oh well.

I didn't keep a journal, so I won't try to tell you what we did every day, but I can mention some of the highlights. Samantha's house in Evergreen, Colorado was pretty neat. At first I thought it was just a really fancy motel, but Samantha had left bones for me, and a whole basket of chew toys. I spent the first evening getting them out of the basket one by one and dragging them under the dining room table. I couldn't figure out why TBC and Margi weren't chasing me to get them back, until I realized that this was going to be our house for the next 3 weeks, and it was O.K. to play with Samantha's stuff because this was a home exchange, and you get to play with the other person's stuff. What wasn't O.K., and I knew it wasn't O.K., was to chew on a stuffed goose that was a decoration on a chair in the bedroom. I kept eyeing this goose every time I walked past it. It was sort of like the goose I got for my birthday, only a lot bigger. After about 4 days I just couldn't stand it any longer, and jumped on it and dragged it under the blanket on the bed. That was a NO, and the goose got put out of reach.

All the animals in the West were pretty exciting. Samantha's house was on a golf course, and there were all sorts of elk and deer around. It was pretty exhausting to keep an eye on them all, and to try and keep them away from the house. Dumb old TBC kept going out to take pictures of them, and getting far too close to them if you ask me. The last evening we were there, the whole herd of over 30 elk came right up on the front lawn. That required some pretty enraged barking, as you can imagine. We also saw a whole bunch of antelope, and a couple of coyotes, and a mountain lion which used to come and sit outside the living room window (TBC says it was just an ordinary cat, but I think it was probably a mountain lion).

The best part of the trip was probably all the great hikes we took in the mountains. When TBC gets around to it, I will see that he puts a bunch of pictures on the web. I think he got some good ones of me mountain climbing. The smells were great, and the clear mountain air was just what a cairn terrier needed to clear out the old nasal passages.

I spent a lot of time looking after the car of course, but that goes with being a traveling dog. The only time I got really upset was when friends of the Voshalls were taking TBC and Margi to lunch at a place called the Bucksnort Saloon. Tom said to TBC as he was getting out of the car, "So, did you bring your gun and how are you in a fistfight?" I know this was supposed to be a joke, but it didn't look like the sort of place TBC and Margi should be going into without me, and I protested loudly about being left in the car.

The other time I sort of lost it was at a motel in South Dakota. It was a Saturday night, and the town was packed with pheasant hunters. There was a hunting dog staying in the next room, which was OK, because I know that you absolutely never ever bark in motel rooms, but at 7:00 the next morning the dog came and started snuffling at our front door. I mean after all. So we were on the road pretty early that morning.

Coming back, we stayed at a really elegant hotel in Minneapolis which had a huge marble lobby where people were always sitting around. Walking on the marble and looking elegant was a bit tricky, especially when I had to be alert for people who wanted to say Hello. The Concierge made a big fuss over me.

So all in all a great trip. When we got home I spent an hour or so checking out everyplace that Samantha had been. TBC and Margi say that their only regret about the trip was that they didn't get to actually meet the Voshalls, and I feel the same way about Samantha. We should do more home exchanges.

Monday, Nov. 13

Hey Nancy, I was so excited about my own trip that I forgot to say Congratulations. I notice that Rob waited until I was in Colorado to propose. Maybe he was worried that I would refuse to grant him your hand in marriage, but hey, I've known him since I was a little puppy and he's a real nice guy. I don't have to wear a kilt at the wedding, do I?

Friday, Nov. 24

If you don't hear from me for a few days it is because I am hospital recovering from major surgery. I will let TBC tell you about it, although he won't tell it with the dramatic flare which I would.

Hamish had been his usual happy healthy self up until Wednesday night of this week. In retrospect, he had had occasional isolated episodes of vomiting in the last few months, but since he seemed otherwise healthy, and wasn't losing weight, Margi and I had tended to shrug these off. Wednesday evening he threw up his dinner, and vomited a couple of times during the night. Margi noticed flecks of bright red blood in the vomitus and Thursday morning he had frank hematemesis. A flat plate of the abdomen revealed a grossly thickened gastric wall. After some discussion, the vet elected to proceed directly to an emergency laporotomy (surgeons!) with the suspicion that there was a foreign body lodged in the stomach. On laporotomy she found a much thickened, friable and ulcerated gastric wall, an enlarged spleen and possible inflammatory changes in the wall of the colon, but no foreign bodies. Appropriate biopsies were done, and Hamish was sewn back together again. The vet suspected a bleeding diathesis and has sent off the necessary blood work.

So at the moment we seem to be left with a diagnosis of chronic inflammatory gastritis. There may well be some other disease process going on, but at this point in time we are at a loss to know what it is. If anyone has any ideas, don't hesitate to e mail me.

Sunday, Nov. 26

TBC! Honestly! That is the most boring account I have ever read.

He left out all the drama of frantically rushing me to Dr. Yett's office, the agonizing decision about whether to put me to the knife, Dr. Yett's desperate attempts to control the bleeding (well, actually I am making that last bit up) and my waking up in a cage surrounded by cats.

I am back home now, after chewing out my IV Friday night. Mary was going to put in another IV, put one of those terrible French collar things on me, and keep me in the hospital for the weekend, but TBC persuaded her to send me home yesterday morning and he is giving me subcutaneous fluids. Hamish the canine pincushion.

I should also point out that I am frantically hungry. In a display of shocking insensitivity, TBC and Margi had the Sanderson's over for drinks last night, and served a huge spread of chips and nuts and cheeses and other stuff, none of which I could have. All I was allowed was the occasional ice cube. They gave me a teaspoon (a teaspoon!) of boiled rice this morning.

So other than being very very very hungry, I am doing pretty well. I slept soundly last night, and haven't thrown up since coming home. Maybe the massive doses of steroids are working.

Tuesday, Nov.28

Well, things continue to go nicely thank you. TBC has stopped sticking needles in me, and I can have all I want to drink. I'm even getting several meals a day, although they are rather meager. Rice isn't all that great of a treat for a cairn terrier who has been grievously ill. Still, they mix some other good stuff with it. TBC says the worst part of not having me around was when he sharpened a pencil in his study, and there was no furious cairn terrier dashing up the stairs to rescue him. I keep saying that. Everybody takes me for granted. So maybe now they will have more appreciation for all the services I perform around here. Yeah, maybe. We were in to Mary's office yesterday, and TBC let her Jack Russell climb up and sit on his lap getting his ears scratched. Me? Oh, I could lie down on the floor and wait.

Wednesday, Nov. 29

Thank you everyone for all your well wishes and expressions of concern.

I now have a diagnosis. Are you ready for it?

Drum roll please.

My gastric biopsy ( I am going to have to learn to talk like TBC) showed a very severe (get that -very severe) case of chronic inflammatory eosinophilic gastritis. So I am going to have to take a course of prednisone, and will get to try out all sorts of exotic diets. Kangaroo meat and venison have been mentioned. The post surgical gastro diet which I am on now tastes pretty good, but either it or the prophylactic antibiotics which I am on is giving me a bit of diarrhea. No more blood, though, and no vomiting. The prednisone makes me pee like crazy, or maybe just makes me very thirsty. I had to get up twice during the night, and both times TBC let me get up on the bed after coming back in. That's the way you should treat a good dog with a bad disease. As TBC always say, bad things do happen to good people.

Thursday, Nov. 30

Hi Nancy. I am doing fine, so good luck on that neuroanatomy exam.

I woke up as soon as Margi got home from band practice last night (just after you called), and had a somewhat restless night. We were in to see Dr. Versteig (she works with Mary Yett) this morning, and she thought everything was O.K. To get into the examining room you have to make your way through her 3 dogs, assorted cats, the chinchilla and the parrot. The parrot gets mad if Mary walks into the waiting room without saying Hello.

Have you heard about the parrot and the burglar? (TBC was reading the parrot newsletter)

Well, there was this burglar, see, who was pulling a job in a really fancy apartment. While he was loading the silverware in his bag, he suddenly heard a voice which said "Jesus is watching you". He jumped 3 feet, and shone his light around. There was a parrot in the corner. He sighed in relief, and went back to work.

Thirty seconds later, "Sqwack, Jesus is watching you".

He walked over to the parrot and said, "Did you say that?"

"Yep"

"Well, just be quiet", and the burglar started disconnecting the stereo.

"Jesus is watching you"

"I thought I told you to be quiet"

"I'm just trying to warn you"

"I want you to be quiet. What's your name?"

"Moses."

"Moses? What kind of people would names their parrot Moses?"

"The same kind of people who would name their Rottweiler Jesus"

It might have been funnier if it had been a Cairn, but what can you expect from a parrot newsletter?

Friday, Dec. 1

I am feeling a lot better today. I admit I was a bit shaky yesterday morning, but in the afternoon we picked up a big bag of new dog food which was really good. It cost $63, but I don't know much about money. I say, batting my eyelashes and wagging my beautiful butterscotch tail.

No. No. I can't believe I said that. The steroids made me do it. Anyway, TBC says I can have all of it I want until I get back up to my preop weight. So by eleven last night, after a couple of good meals, I was towing TBC and Margi down the street to look for squirrels.

I have to go in this afternoon to get the stitches out. What if I come undone? TBC never bothers to explain these things to me. He thinks I inherited all this knowledge. I will let you know what happens.

Sunday, Dec. 3

O.K., I didn't come apart or anything. Actually, I didn't even feel the stitches coming out. I am feeling pretty well, except for a few stomach cramps in the morning. We got our Christmas tree yesterday afternoon, and a cedar garland to put up inside, except they didn't tell me that and I went and peed on it. The steroids make me pee a lot. Or at least they make me very thirsty, and that makes me pee a lot. TBC has some esoteric theory about medullary washout. Dr. Versteig just rolls her eyes and says she didn't pay that much attention to her renal physiology lectures.

Wednesday, Dec. 6

Things continue to go well. I am getting lots to eat. TBC says they are fattening me up like the Christmas goose .He doesn't really mean that, does he? My stomach cramps have disappeared. We had a good round of squeaky toss last night, and I now sleep through the night without having to get up to pee. I find I shiver a lot when they take me out for a walk or when we are out in the car. I hope they don't get me one of those wussy sweaters for Christmas. I might have to pretend I liked it.

Friday, Dec. 8

TBC called me an aggravating animal last night! Which isn't a very nice thing to say about someone who was as seriously ill as I was. After all, when I was sick, I would dash out into my chicken coop to pee (it was often a near thing), pee, and dash back in. But that was then, and this is now. So I still dash out to pee (I'm still taking the steroids), pee, and then think about whether I want to come back in or not. It really wouldn't hurt TBC to stand there holding the door open for 4 or 5 minutes while I make up my mind.

We had new snow last night which is up to my knees. Great fun for walking in, but I wish they wouldn't put salt on the road. The main excitement yesterday was a hot water heater repairman who was here for a couple of hours, and required very careful watching.

Tomorrow we are going to put up our Christmas tree so it will be ready for Nancy when she gets here next week. Can't wait to tell Nancy about my operation and show her my scar. I wanted TBC to put a picture of my scar on my web site this morning, but he says he is too busy. Good luck on your Christmas exams Nancy. You write an awful lot of exams. When do they teach you stuff?

Saturday Dec. 9

We stopped in at the vets yesterday on our way up to get groceries just to weigh me, and I have gained half a pound in the last week. At that rate, by the time of the OER specialty show in May, I will weigh 19 pounds. Move over MacKenzie! I am eating a lot, about a cup and a half a day of my kibble, but I wouldn't mind some of the other good stuff. TBC never shares breakfast or lunch with me any more. Last night I spent about an hour and a half helping him make dinner, and what did I get for my efforts? A TINY piece of hard boiled egg which he was chopping and dropped on the floor.

Thursday, Dec. 14

I hope people haven't been worried about me. My silence has nothing to do with my state of health. I'm feeling fine and getting lots to eat. No, the problem was with our computer, which apparently got a virus from Linda. TBC of course thought he could fix this by himself. Typical TBC. There is considerable cairn terrier in his personality. Anyway, of course he couldn't (this was a nasty virus which was classified as difficult to remove), and I am not going to recount the whole boring saga. Suffice it to say that he had to take his computer in to Jerry, and has just got it back this afternoon. He is complaining that he can't find where anything is. As a matter of fact, he isn't at all sure that this is going to get posted.

Last weekend we put up our Christmas tree, which involved a lot of good games of chase. I snarfed up an old ornament made out of apple sauce and cinnamon, and snuck under the coffee table where I thought I could just maybe suck on it a bit. That was the first game of chase. The first of several. But finally we got the Christmas tree up, and it looks good.

Nancy is coming down Saturday morning. I can't talk any longer because TBC wants to see if he can get this on the web.

Saturday, Dec. 16

Oh Oh!

We were driving past the old Beaver Animal Hospital yesterday, so I went in to get weighed on their scale. I have gained almost a pound in the last week, up to 13.1 pounds. I really should stop eating. Maybe their scales is wrong. But no, I don't want to get fat. I should go on a diet.

But if you'll excuse me, I think I will just go downstairs and check my bowl. Burp.

Wednesday, Dec.20

If TBC can tear himself away from mucking about with his computer, I might just get a web page entry made. Has everybody seen the latest edition of my memoirs in the Cairn Terrier Club of Canada newsletter? Wow, my first Christmas. I was just a little puppy. That seems so long ago.

Nancy arrived on Saturday afternoon, and we have all been having a good time, and doing a lot of Christmas shopping. We are going to head up to Ottawa for Christmas. Nancy says I am not as lively as I used to be, but I'm not a puppy anymore, and I am carrying a few extra pounds around with me. We have been down to the frozen lake a few times, and have had a lot more snow.

So if I don't get another chance to say it, Merry Christmas everybody!

Thursday, Dec.28

Wow, what an exciting Christmas.

We left last Friday, and after a long drive we got to Peterborough, where Rob lives. I knew we were going to Ottawa for Christmas, but nobody told me about visiting Rob. Nobody tells me anything. TBC says it is because I don't listen, but most of the time they are talking about really boring stuff, and I would sooner be thinking about chasing squirrels, or Gilmore the great black cat, or the other dogs in the neighbourhood. Anyway, I was really surprised to see Rob at the car rental office where he works, and all the people in the office made a big fuss over me. Then we went on to Rob's apartment (I forget why), and checked into the Comfort Inn where we were staying, and then Rob came over and TBC and Margi and Nancy and Rob went out for dinner while I froze in the car. TBC left me his parka to lie on, and came out a couple of times during dinner to check on me, but it was pretty bloody cold. Not half as cold as it got later, but I mustn't get ahead of myself. Next we went back to Rob's apartment to open some Christmas presents, which is always fun, pouncing on the wrapping paper and scattering it around. Rob didn't even want to pick it up because he thought it looked festive, so I was pretty proud of myself. Rob is a very discerning guy.

The next morning we had another long drive to Ottawa, and a long walk up the mountain to John and Betty's house, and then of course I had to re explore their whole house to make sure that it was the same as the last time I was there, while everybody carried in all the presents. There were a LOT of presents, which was why I didn't have much room in the car.

Shortly after we arrived it started to snow. And it snowed and it snowed and it snowed. I think they said on the radio that there had been 154 cm. of snow in Ottawa in December, which was a new record. It was snowing the next day (Dec. 24) but everybody went out for a cross country ski anyway. Everybody except me. I thought Betty, who is expecting a baby in February should have stayed home with me, but she wanted to go skiing, and they thought it was too cold to leave me in the car. I was a pretty mad cairn terrier, but I guess I see the point, because the weather had turned really cold, down to about minus ten farenheit. At that temperature cairn paws freeze up in about 30 seconds. After they got back from skiing, we all drove over to the MacLeods. I was supposed to stay in the car, but with the weather being what it was, Pete and Marg said to bring me in, which was really nice of them. I mean, if their cat doesn't want to play with me, that's O.K. It wasn't as if there weren't all sorts of other people there to play with. I found out that the cat, Sheba, actually belongs to Ken. This is a problem, because Ken just got engaged, the night before, to a girl called Lee, who seems like a very discerning dog lover. So anyway, a big Christmas Eve dinner, and all sorts of people there who I never did quite manage to sort out, and then a drive back through the snow to John and Betty's place.

The next morning was Christmas morning, and we spent about 3 hours opening presents. I got a chew toy and some scrunchies of my very own from Nancy because I am always stealing hers to chew on. In the afternoon, TBC and Betty and I went for a walk, except that my paws got really cold. TBC had to carry me a bunch of the way. Margi thinks I should get galoshes, but TBC says this is wussy. It is nothing like as cold at Port Stanley as it is in Ottawa, so we will wait and see. A big turkey dinner (it smelled good, even if I couldn't sample it) in the evening, and so to bed. Boxing Day we all just sort of laid around lazily. John and Craig and Margi went out for a short ski. I lay at the door waiting for them to come back. Betty and Nancy kept trying to persuade me to come upstairs and help them with a jigsaw puzzle, but a dog's got responsibilities.

Yesterday we drove home, dropping Nancy off in Peterborough to stay with Rob for a few days. We got home about 7, and TBC says that I wanted to go out in my chicken coop 17 times to bark at the neighbourhood. I think he was exaggerating, but I can't count that high. Besides, I had to announce to everybody that Hamish Magruder was back. AND feeling like my old self, I might add.

Dec. 31

The best part of Christmas is of course the boxes.

Funny hats are not the best part, but as long as you carry them around in your mouth they are O.K.

Today is the last day of the millennium, and TBC and Margi are going to stay home for once and celebrate with me. This morning the sun is shining brilliantly off a new blanket of snow. Not as much snow as in Ottawa, of course, but a respectable amount for Port Stanley. The ice dunes are really high this year, but also really slippery for climbing on, unless the new snow has made things easier. TBC says that we will go for a long walk this afternoon. Then we will come home and have a huge gala dinner that TBC is going to cook from the new cookbook that he got for Christmas. Not that I expect to get much to eat. I ate a package of Fimo yesterday that I found tucked in a basket beside the sofa. Good texture, but not much flavour. TBC and Margi are going to forgo Champagne, and toast the new millennium with the ice wine that Rob gave them for Christmas.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Saturday, Jan.6

We have had some real old fashioned blizzards down here in the past week. TBC says it is just like SW Ontario used to be when he was a puppy. Hahaha. I can't imagine TBC as a puppy. He has been reading a book that Nancy gave him for Christmas about Dog Constructions. We all know that there are some weird dogs out there, but this is pretty far out stuff. The Cairn terrier that they talk about in the book builds small piles of stones. This is only moderately bizarre, but the really bizarre bit is the attempts to explain this by dog behaviourists and spiritualists. If dogs are weird, humans are a lot weirder.

We were passing the Beaver Animal Hospital yesterday, so I stopped in to get weighed. I am up to 14 pounds! This is about half a pound more than I have ever weighed in my entire life. My daily kibble ration has been cut, and life is looking bleak. TBC is looking for a dog nutritionist who could suggest low calorie snack foods with a MW less than 10,000 Daltons. The only thing I understand in that sentence is "snack", but if you have any suggestions, please e mail him immediately.

In other news, I am going to be in the London dog show in a couple of weeks. TBC and Margi say this is purely for fun, since I enjoy dog shows so much. I am looking forward to seeing all my old friends again, and meeting some new dogs, and trotting around and everything.

Thursday, January 11

TBC and I have been spending a lot of time this week in writing up more installments of my memoirs for the Cairn Terrier Club of Canada newsletter. It is fun to read about how naive I was as a puppy. We argue a lot about what to include and what not to include. TBC says we should leave out all the boring bits, but I think it is all interesting. We got a Christmas card from friends in the Netherlands who have a Cairn terrier. They say they read my web page every week.

We are having a party Saturday night for new neighbours who have a Golden retriever called Oscar. TBC and I wanted to invite Oscar, but Margi said, "No Way!" Oh well, parties are always fun anyway.

Snack wise, the best TBC could come up with was apples, but that's O.K., I really like apples. Cathy Crenna, Henry's owner, had written Purina to ask them what they would suggest for snacks for dogs with inflammatory bowel disease. They suggested that she grind up Purina HA kibble (the type of kibble I eat) with a bit of water and bake it in the shape of cookies. That's so stupid that it is either sad or funny, I can't decide which.

Tuesday, January 16

I do love party weekends. Lot's of people over Saturday night, and I soaked up lots of attention. Everybody had strict orders not to feed me any of the good stuff which was floating around, but Margi had put out little bowls of my kibble so that the guests could feed me if they succumbed to my hypnotic stare, which I am pretty good at. The joke of the night was of course that if people had enough to drink they would start eating my hypoallergenic kibble. By closing my eyes and smelling the cheese and the chicken wings and the hors d'oeuvres I could sort of imagine that I was eating the good stuff.

Sunday, John's friends Jerry and Christie came over. Jerry had Margi's computer repaired, so now Margi will have an excuse to ignore me. Not good. Also in the probably not good category is the judging schedule for the London show next weekend. We have an 8 AM ring time on Sunday. That means getting up at 5. I love dog shows, but I NEVER get up before 8:30. So if I am not at my best, you will know why.

Saturday, January 20

Oh wow, I had forgotten how great dog shows are. Margi and TBC got up in the middle of the night Friday. I ignored them and went back to sleep. The next I knew they were poking me and forcing me to get up. Eventually I woke up, after being thrown out in my chicken coop in the polar night, and we all got into the car. At this point I realized that something exciting was up, and sure enough 45 minutes later (the sun was up by now) we arrived at the Western Fair Grounds where the show was being held. Lots of dogs and people. I got to meet and even to play with a nice cairn puppy called Mikey. He actually beat me for Best of Breed, but that was O.K. We stayed around to watch him take best puppy in group. Rena (his owner) is trying to persuade TBC and Margi to take me to the Detroit Specialty show on March 5, probably so Mikey can beat me again. But like I said, that's O.K. The important thing about dog shows is that you get to see and meet so many other people and other dogs. I don't know if I have ever mentioned it, but most of the other dogs at dog shows get put in their crates when they aren't being groomed or shown, but TBC says that would ruin the whole point of going to shows, so we often don't even take my crate.

Today Margi is tied up all day piping, but tomorrow is another show.

Monday, January 22

Yesterday's dog show was hilarious. My friend Mikey that I met on Friday, got a sniff of a female puppy in heat called Taz, and totally lost it. I mean, I admit that my ring deportment sometimes leaves a little bit to be desired, but this was a kid who just could not control himself. Talk about testosterone overload. He was literally throwing himself around the ring trying to get at Taz. TBC says he can remember when he used to feel that way about girls. I don't want to hear about it.

My behaviour, I might add, was a model of gentlemanly decorum. I did notice that Margi and I did not go anywhere near the other cairns before ring time. I remember the same thing happened to me at a show about a year ago in Markham, but luckily it was after I had been in the ring.TBC had to take me outside and put me in the car. Despite all this, Mikey got the one point he needed to finish his championship. I got beaten for Best of Breed by a dog called Dash, but when you are a Special, it is sort of an all or nothing proposition.

TBC thinks that I showed well enough that we are going to go to the big Detroit show, so that should be fun. We all went to bed early last night, and slept pretty soundly.

Monday, January 29

Things have been pretty quiet around here for the past week. Get up, watch TBC eat breakfast, go the village with TBC to pick up the Globe, go upstairs and bug Margi to come down and serve me some breakfast, go out for a walk with Margi to check my p mail, nap, walk to the mailbox with TBC, have lunch, drive around a bit in the car, nap, have dinner, watch TV, play squeaky toss, go for my evening walk, eat anything left in my dish and so to bed. We did go out for an exciting ski yesterday. TBC tends to get tangled up in my long lead, and has to stop every ten minutes to unwind himself. He says if I would just run behind him this wouldn't happen, but I feel my rightful place is scouting out the trail ahead. We probably skied for about 3 Km .and I slept pretty soundly after we got back. We have also been for a couple of good walks along the ice dunes.

I don't think I have mentioned it before, but the neighbours have a stone rabbit in their garden. Margi claims that on nights when the moon is full, there are rabbit tracks which lead from the stone rabbit to my chicken coop, but I think this is just Margi being weird.

Wednesday, January 31

Linda really liked the picture of me which TBC sent her and which will go with all future installments of my memoirs in the newsletter. She said the installments were masterpieces. Speaking of Linda, she was talking on the cairn list about one of her dogs who she had sold to somebody else and who weighed 20 pounds. TBC wrote her back and said that he was "monitoring my weight carefully". Get stuffed, TBC, get stuffed. You aren't the one who has to eat bloody soya beans.

Monday, February 5

TBC stepped on my paw Friday night! And then tried to say it was my fault because I wasn't paying attention when I was hanging around in the kitchen while he was cooking dinner. So I went and sat in the corner and stared at him reproachfully for about 20 minutes. I know he doesn't believe in guilt, but cairn terriers are masters of looking reproachful. Eventually he gave me a piece of Bok Choy, and then tried to convince Margi that since I wasn't a Shih Tzui I couldn't possibly be allergic to Bok Choy. Sigh.

He was reading us a bit from the Globe yesterday about German shepherds. Constable Phil Tyson, a dog handler with the West Yorkshire Police was quoted as saying, "The dogs are too soft, they're frightened of confrontation and show a lack of interest in nose work." Right. Where do I sign up? I'm sure I would be great, and I could start a corps of fierce cairn terriers trained in police work. Our friend Doug Sanderson used to work with police dogs. I think I will talk to him about it.

Thursday, February 8

Possum Wars! Margi and I were out for a walk Tuesday evening. I was snuffling along in the snowbank beside the road, and all of a sudden, 6 inches in front of my nose, was a possum. I was so surprised I almost...well, never mind. The possum turned and ran, which I guess was a good thing, because TBC says possums are incredibly vicious, with sharp teeth and long claws. Apparently he trapped one once which was under the house.

So I have been on high possum alert for the last 48 hours. Cairn terriers all know that you have to take the high ground when faced with an enemy, so every time I spot what I think might be a possum I charge upstairs and jump up on the bed in the master bedroom, which is the highest place in the house, except for the top of TBC's desk, where I am not supposed to climb, and bark like crazy. It has been an exciting two days.

Saturday, February 16

Man, am I ever a wiped dog today. Got back last night from 3 days at Marlene's place, and I have been sleeping ever since. She had a chocolate lab staying wither her, and he and I spent a lot of time playing with each other, and her Hamish is a buddy from away back. He is named after me, of course, so it gets pretty confusing. Every time she called Hamish, we both ran to see what she wanted.

I didn't realize we were going anywhere until Monday night when we started packing everything in the car, which I thought was pretty weird, but got all excited, because it's a weird family. Then we all went to bed. When we got up Tuesday morning, I remembered that the car was packed, and got all excited again. While I was staying with Marlene, TBC and Margi were off skiing in Northern Michigan, which would have been fun, but staying with Marlene is always fun too. In two weeks we are all going to the big Detroit Specialty show. TBC says there are something like 116 cairns entered! Holy cow! That's a lot of cairns.

Sunday, February 25

Hey, I'm a granddog. Betty and John had a baby which they are calling Wyatt James. I guess they are pretty excited, and Margi is pretty excited. TBC and I aren't too sure. Babies crawl around and pull your tail, and try to ride on top of you and feed you stuff you aren't supposed to have and make a lot of noise. TBC found an old picture of him when he was 3 months old, pulling on the hair of a cairn terrier which his parents owned.

In other news, I was in to see Dr. Yett this week. She has stopped my steroids, and given me a bunch of shots before the Detroit show next weekend.

Nancy has been down in the Dominican Republic with a bunch of her friends from Physio. They didn't take any dogs with them. She and Rob are coming to visit in two weeks time.

And TBC has new shoes. I have been growling at them.

Tuesday, Feb. 27

We watched a great program on TV last night. It was about this dog who was learning to be a police dog, except he tripped his master who fell down the stairs and broke an ankle and he (the dog) had to hang out with this other detective who didn't really like him, but he didn't like the chief inspector, and the other guy didn't either, so that worked out well. Then the dog found some drugs, but Inspector Frost wouldn't believe him, and there was another dog who was going for a walk on the beach and found a guy's arm, but that was just a subplot, which had nothing to do with the other dog who saved Frost's life and got stabbed with a meat hook. It all ended happily when the dog got patched up by the vet, and his master got out of the hospital, and the chief inspector who nobody likes had to pay a big vet bill.

I really got into it, and barked like crazy at all the exciting bits. We leave for Detroit on Friday.

Monday, March 5

Wow, what a great weekend. One of the best shows yet! We arrived about 3 o'clock on Friday, and I immediately spotted three other cairns. So I had to get out to meet them, and then we saw Janine and Devil, and went back to their room to start partying, and there were some puppies there, and several other dogs, and that's the way it went all weekend. There were all sorts of trees around the motel, and I had to pee on every one two or three times a day.

The show was really unusual, because it was just for cairn terriers. I didn't win anything, but Pipes Of Pan was best in show on Saturday, and Mackenzie was Winner's dog on Saturday, and my friend Mikey from the London show was Winner's dog on Sunday. I think Mikey is really funny. Somebody else was handling him in the ring on Sunday during the final round of judging, and he started assing around, so the judge had Rena trade places with his handler. I think Mikey and Mackenzie are really nice dogs, but Mikey is more my sort of dog. I went for walks with both of them. Gotta go. Just spotted two Canada Geese in the creek. You can't even take a weekend off around here.

Monday, March 12

Have I mentioned that nobody ever tells me anything around here? TBC says it is just because I don't pay attention, but I didn't know that Nancy and Rob were coming for the weekend. I thought dinner was even later than usual Friday night, and then about 10 o'clock the doorbell rang and there were Nancy and Rob. So we had a huge dinner while I lay under the table and gnawed noisily on my bone. The bone is one of those bleached bones that I have had for a long time. You might call it Memories of Bone, but it does make a satisfying noise when I gnaw on it. Then the rest of the weekend was spent with walks, and games of chase, and a plaque unveiling ceremony at the fire hall where TBC made a speech which I didn't pay much attention to. We spent a lot of time talking about Nancy and Rob's wedding. There seems to be some question as to whether dogs are allowed in the church. Humph!

Wednesday March 21

It has been a slow ten days. We took a short drive to Aylmer on Sunday to see the Tundra Swans. There were over 1000 of them at the feeding station, but I wasn't allowed to chase them, which was too bad, because watching a cairn terrier chase 1000 swans would have been far more exciting than just watching them eat grain and fly around. Oh well. We are heading down to Ottawa to see the new grandson. I have to remember not to pee on him, even if he does pee on me. Then we are going on to Pennsylvania Dutch Country for a few days and I have to go along to bark at the horse drawn wagons.

Saturday, March 31

Another great trip. We started out going to Ottawa to see Wyatt James. He had been in hospital with a rotovirus infection, and John didn't want me to lick him in case he was still infectious and I might get it, and TBC didn't want me to lick him because baby barf isn't on my diet, so I couldn't really greet him properly, but I did have a lot of fun stealing his soother and then everyone would chase me all over the house. John and Betty have a super house for running around in, and climbing on things to look out windows.

There was a lot of snow left on the ground in Ottawa. It was hard and crusty so that I could walk on top of the snow, while everybody else sank down about 2 feet. It was fun running on top of the snowbanks beside John and Betty's driveway walk while everybody else slogged through the snow.

From Ottawa, we went down to Lancaster county for a few days. I eventually got tired of barking at the stupid horses on the road and just ignored them. We stayed one night at a fancy place called The Historic Smithton Inn where dogs weren't allowed on the furniture. Ha. I could show you pictures illustrating what I thought of that particular piece of stupidity. We met a man who lived near the inn who owned two cairns. Another night we stayed at a hotel in downtown Williamsport with a good window sill looking out over the street, except that I got stuck on it and nobody realized that I couldn't get down. We did a lot of driving around. I always enjoy lying in the back window and watching the world go by. In one parking lot we were parked beside a BMW with an old English Sheep dog lying in the back window. I don't like to be critical of other dogs, but there really isn't room for a Old English Sheep dog in the back window of a BMW.

Now we are back home waiting for Nancy to come down for study week, and John and Betty and Wyatt to come down for Easter.

Friday April 6

One of those weeks that shape and illuminate our time. Doobey has arrived from British Columbia. Doobey is this awesome black lab who is owned by Josh who is the son of the Lewises.. The Lewises live next door. Their cat Gilbert thinks he owns our property. I have been barking at Gilbert whenever I can, but what can you do? Well, if you are Doobey, you chase him up trees. This is one of the most exciting things I have ever seen. Doobey chased Gilbert up one of the Lewis's trees, and then sat below the tree for about an hour, barking to make sure the dumb cat didn't come down. I desperately wanted to go out and assist with the project, but had to be content to join in the barking from a distance.

So now, every time I see Doobey, I get pretty excited. There are other cats in the neighbourhood which would benefit from the same treatment. Sometimes maybe I get a little too excited. The best view of the Lewises woods is from the bed in the master bedroom. I was up there yesterday letting Doobey know that I was ready willing and able to join in with whatever he had in mind, and didn't realize that TBC had snuck up the stairs. In my excitement I peed a drop or five on the corner of the bed. Hoo boy, did TBC ever get mad. I don't think I have ever seen him that mad. He is muttering darkly about having me castrated. I haven't peed for 24 hours, inside or out. Things are getting desperate.

Thursday, April 12

Nancy is here and we have been having a great time with walks and squeaky toss and games of chase. The best one was two nights ago when I managed to dash out the door as a piping student of Margi's was arriving. I took off on my usual route with TBC and Margi and Nancy in hot pursuit. Got down to the end of the beach (about two blocks), cut through to the lake and got as far as Main Street in the village before Nancy caught me.

The phone rang this morning while we were all still in bed, and it was Russ, asking Margi if she would agree to pipe the Westies into their ring at the big specialty show in May, as well as the cairns. I dunno. White dogs? I mean, I don't like to be prejudiced, but they do have that funny poofy hairdo for the show ring. I have never met one, and I am sure that there are some very nice Westies, but still.. My faithful typist, TBC, says to watch my tongue because they had two Westies before I came along. How's that for some shocking news? They never told ME that.

Anyway, we are all getting ready for Wyatt to arrive this afternoon. I hope he has a good supply of soothers. Margi says that when John was a baby, he used to sleep in a cradle in the kitchen. Their Westie would sleep with his tale under the rocker of the cradle. When the baby woke up, the cradle would rock and the Westie (his name was Roger) would come into the bedroom to wake up Margi. Sounds to me as if Westies aren't too bright.

Happy Easter everyone.

Sunday, April 15

John and Betty are getting pretty sneaky. Wyatt arrived with his soother pinned to his sleeper so that I couldn't steal it. But John and TBC and Wyatt and I went for a really long walk around the village while Margi and Nancy and Betty did the gift shops, so that was good. I got into a patch of burrs and swallowed one of them. It got stuck in my throat and I couldn't get it out. Eventually I managed to throw up and the burr came out. That was the first time I have thrown up since last November, but I am sure it didn't have anything to do with IBD.

Last night things were getting a bit dull, and I saw a speck of something floating in my water dish, so I put my paw in to try and grab it. That seemed like a fun thing to do, so I got both paws in and splashed all the water out of my dish. Nancy emptied my dish and got me another one, and I splashed all the water out of that too. I repeated this 2 or 3 times, which seemed to amuse everybody except TBC and Margi who thought I was going nuts. So now John and Betty and Wyatt are on their way back to Ottawa.

Thursday, April 26

TBC has been neglecting my web page because he is too busy hurling rocks to type for me. We got 8 tons of stone delivered to the front lawn, and TBC and Margi have been carrying it out to the creek bank to fill gabion baskets. I get to watch. Oh goody, goody. Quel excitement.

Had a traumatic visit to the vets last week. I was in for my annual heartworm test, and Dr. Yett decided that my gums were inflamed. She wanted to anaesthetize me and scrape the plaque off, but TBC said, "No". So she did what she could without anaesthetic. I suppose TBC used to practice medicine before Simpson discovered ether. Personally, I think the problem was children's toothpaste which Margi was using to brush my teeth because dog toothpaste contains beef flavouring which might start up my IBD again. ????? I dunno. I suspect my diet of being overly strict. Anyway, I am now using a special mouth wash, and getting extra vitamins. My gums are feeling better.

Friday, May 4

I had better warn my readers at the start of today's episode that it is not for the faint of heart. Unless you enjoy reading sordid tales of abuse of civil rights, unjust incarceration and outright dog abuse, you had better stop reading right now. It is not a pretty story, any way you look at it.

It all started yesterday when Margi and TBC and I were out working in the garden (we have been doing a lot of that) and Dooby and his mistress came out. Robin was having lunch, and Dooby was sharing it, so I started barking. TBC told me to be quiet several times, but I have watched enough TV to know that people in this country can yap loudly at whatever they feel like yapping at, and if they want to bark loudly and wave placards about any number of meaningless causes they can, so why can't a small butterscotch dog bark at a big black dog if he feels like it? The only reason our founding fathers didn't enshrine that right in our constitution is because we don't have a constitution. Or maybe we do, but TBC says it isn't worth a pinch of puppy poop since anybody can opt out, and our family has opted out, so forget it. But I don't know about that. You shouldn't underestimate the power of the internet, and if we could get half a dozen cairn terriers together we could hire a civil rights lawyer and see what we can do.

Anyway, the story gets worse. The next thing I knew I had been put inside in the laundry room, which is clearly a case of unjust incarceration, which has to be outlawed by the constitution, except we don't have a consitution, but we do have a Bill of rights, which isn't worth a pinch, etc, or is that the consitution, or maybe Magna Carta. Yeah that's it. Magna Carta must support unjust incarceration, or am I getting confused?

So, moving right along with this sordid tale, I eventually got let out of the laundry room and brought outside again to help supervise the digging. Dooby had gone inside, but I thought I should bark anyway to let him know that now I was outside again, and that's when TBC got exasperated and cuffed me with his work gloves right up alongside my left ear hole. Now that's dog abuse, which shouldn't be tolerated under any circumstances. I would contact a social worker, but according to the CBC this morning, Mike Harris isn't going to let social workers in the province represent anybody who can't read and write (well, I mean I can't hold a pen, can I), but are the social workers going to take that lying down? No, you bet they aren't, they're all going to go on strike, so they will probably have lots of time to look into cases of dog abuse and a big beefy social worker will come and lock TBC up in the laundry room, so hahaha.

After that I did shut up, and lay in the sun watching TBC and Margi work and thinking about injustice. Comes the revolution, boy, comes the revolution. I may have a few things a little mixed up here, but never mind details, we are talking principle!

Friday, May11

I wasn't feeling so good this morning, since I had been in yesterday for Lyme disease and giardia vaccinations. As faithful readers of this page will know, TBC's total grasp of Veterinary medicine can be summed up by the fact that he thinks you can gauge a dog's temperature by feeling his ears, and he decided I had hot ears, so he let me sleep all morning while Margi was out at her weekly bagpiping lesson. It had been a good visit to the Beaver Animal Hospital, leaving aside the needles, which weren't bad. We saw Dr. Versteeg again. She hadn't been there for several months, and there were a lot of dogs in the waiting room to play with. Dr. V. is still worried about my gums, and says she really doesn't understand why they are still inflamed, but they feel a lot better than they did. How about trying a great big beefy bone?

Anyway, after lunch we went to get the week's groceries as usual, and when we got home there was a tractor mowing the neighbour's lawn, which required a lot of barking and running from one end of the house to the other to make sure it didn't get near our lawn, and then it started to thunder, which always requires really serious barking. TBC eventually threw me out in the rain (after deciding that my ears had cooled off), and I got soaking wet and had to run in circles around the coffee table 15 times to dry off. After dinner we all fell asleep in front of the TV.

It was exactly one year ago that I finished my championship! Next weekend we are going down to Kitchener Waterloo for the big specialty show. Linda is going to be there, probably with Mom and Sis, and Janine is going to be there, probably with my buddy Devil, so I will get to see all the guys and do my thing in the ring. Margi is piping us into the ring, and piping in the Westies as well. It should be a great weekend.

Wednesday, May 16

Wow, is it ever going to be an exciting weekend. Nancy and Rob are going to join us in Kitchener on Saturday for the dog show. And Linda is going to be getting me ready for the ring Sunday morning. The Big Momma! Will I ever have to watch my p's (and q's).

Monday May 21

Happy Victoria day everybody. Yesterday was probably one of the best days of my life. We had a room on the second floor of the motel in Kitchener where I could look out the patio doors and watch all the other cairns and see everything that was going on. We were up really early because Margi was piping us into the auditorium, and TBC took me out for an early walk to socialize a bit. I got to meet a lot of the other dogs this weekend. Friday night TBC and Margi took me into the hospitality suite, which was sort of like the first time I had been invited to a big party. Linda's Zoe was the only other dog there. I know at home my job at a party is always to greet the guests as they arrive, but I didn't seem expected to do this. Strange. Anyway, to get back to yesterday. We were up early, and Rob and Nancy were there, and Margi piped all the cairns into the ring with me at the head of the parade, and then Linda fixed me up for the show while Margi put away her pipes, and we all hung around until it was my turn to go in and trot around. Everybody was saying how good I looked.

After the show, Rob and Nancy came back to Port Stanley with us and TBC and Rob and I got out the patio furniture and we all sat around on the deck. Then we had a big dinner and went into the village and sat around on the sand and watched the fireworks. Fireworks are neat, but the fun part is joining the huge crowd of people who are milling around. You have to walk over the bridge, which used to scare me when I was a little puppy, but now I don't even think about it.

So then home to bed, and I slept like a log. Dog show weekends are always neat.

Tuesday, May 22

A stirring tale today of a narrowly averted tragedy and a heroic cairn terrier rescue. Nancy deserves a medal.

Rob and TBC were busy sawing down a tree, so I persuaded Nancy to take me down to the lake. It was really rough, but I was digging in the sand in front of the rocks, just messing around, and not paying much attention to the waves. Suddenly a huge wave came in and swept me off my feet. The undertow was pulling me back out. Nancy, without a moment's hesitation jumped in up to her waist and rescued me before I was swept out into the lake. That's what I call a heroic action. TBC probably would have just hauled me back with my lead. It was a sobering experience, and I can see the point of always wearing my long lead when we are down on the beach, especially if it is rough.

Monday, May 28

I quote from a front page story in the Kitchener Waterloo Record last week, "Dog shows are a study in odd behaviour - the humans, not the dogs. There was the woman dressed head to foot in full Scottish regalia, sporting a little Cairn terrier under her arm. There was the older gentleman clad completely in pink and baby blue and a guy wearing a jacket that looked like it was made from seat covers off a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle". etc. etc.

I mean really! The reporter might have asked someone WHY Margi was wearing full Scottish regalia, but the point is that I am NOT a "little cairn terrier" to be "sported" under somebodies arm. O.K., so maybe I am a few ounces under the breed standard. I wonder what the bloody reporter looks like. Actually, I wish TBC and Margi wouldn't pick me up, because it does sometimes make me look a little on the small side, and it is not very dignified, and there are probably other people who think exactly the same thing. It is all very disturbing. I think I will go out and try and pick a fight with Doobie.

Tuesday, June 5

It was Margi's birthday on Sunday, and they went off and left me at Marlene's doggy day care. They must have really missed me because they were back after a day asking if I had missed them. Well, yeah, but one day isn't long to play with Marlene's dogs. Not that I don't like traveling, I wouldn't want to give anyone that impression, but staying with Marlene is really fun too.

On a different subject, now TBC has Margi doing it. I had a vaccination last week, and the next day Margi asked TBC if he thought my ears were hot. TBC's theories of earistic medicine! He even believes that you can make dogs feel better by manipulating their ears. And even worse, I have seen this work. I mean it doesn't do anything for me, but with some dogs, TBC starts in on their ears and they practically go ape. Some dogs! Especially the ones with big ears.

Speaking of which, we were watching a show on the History channel last night on the pornography industry. You can get a life size anatomicaly correct model of a porn star (I forget her name) for $5000. Wonder how much you would pay for a model of a female Cairn terrier? Now some search engine will probably find the word pornographic on my web page, and TBC's e mail will fill up with offers. Ha Ha.

Friday June 15

Does everybody read Pooch Café? It's a comic strip in the Globe which TBC reads me every night. I sort of identify with the Bichon Frise in the strip who is a show dog who is always trying to act really macho, but at the same time worries about things like his coat getting stained. In the latest sequence he got in some tar, and his two friends told him to try and rub it off on a telephone pole and now he is stuck to the telephone pole and he has a big show coming up in a couple of days.

I am going to be in the Lambeth show on Sunday, and spent a long time yesterday afternoon getting groomed. Then we had a late dinner, and after dinner went down to sit on the rocks by the lake, but I couldn't dig in the sand because Margi didn't want me to get dirty, which was O.K, because Margi and I had spent a long time yesterday morning playing in the lake. There was seaweed on the rocks which sort of moves with the waves and I was pretending that it was alive. Anyway, next we went for a walk and spent a long time talking to the guy down the road who owns the Spaniel. Not the Spaniel I don't like, the other one. He had discovered a new orchid, and there was a long story about him and the orchid in the Toronto Star. But all that has nothing to do with what I started to tell you. We went home and Margi was doing the dishes and TBC and I were having a game of elephant toss on the couch. TBC is pretty good at pretending he is throwing my stuffed elephant in one direction and actually making it go somewhere else. I can usually hear it land and know exactly where it is, but I pretend I have to run around looking for it, which amuses TBC and I. Sorry, me. So TBC tossed it and then changed this to one of his sneaky backhand flips which I saw just as I was launching myself from the couch, and I landed crooked and twisted my left front paw. TBC and Margi got all upset, and didn't want me to move around on it. TBC even went and fetched my elephant for me. We may have the start of a new game here. The paw may be a little bit sprained but it feels OK this morning, and I am sure it will be OK for the show on Sunday. Wish me luck.

Monday June 18

A good dog show yesterday. It was a beautiful afternoon, unlike the same show last year when it poured rain. I didn't see a lot of my friends there, but there were 5 other cairns to compete against. And Ron and Janine were there and made a big fuss over me. I hadn't seen Ron for a long time. They had Taz in the show all 3 days, and she finished her championship on Saturday. I don't know Taz very well, but she certainly smelled interesting. And I want everyone to know that despite that, I behaved myself beautifully in the ring, manfully resisting the temptation to get my nose down in the grass. So I ended up with another Best in Breed ribbon to add to my collection. As TBC said to Margi in one of his profound pronouncements, "Well, we've won some, and we've lost some. Winning's better." I mean, Duh. But I shouldn't be hard on him, because after the show he took me down to the creek and let me dig in the sand and wade and play with the seaweed. All in all a good weekend.

Wednesday, June 20

It wasn't MY fault. It's not as if it's me who makes it thunder.

We were out for our usual walk after the eleven o'clock news last night, and there was a lot of lightening in the sky, but I didn't hear any thunder. We went off to bed, and about an hour later there was a big clap of thunder. I was pretty sleepy, but a dog's got to do what a dog's got to do, so I dragged myself up off my blanket and barked at it to stop. It wouldn't stop, so I barked harder, and then TBC woke up and yelled at me because I hadn't got the thunder stopped. The harder I tried the more annoyed he got. Finally he lifted me up on the bed, and I figured maybe if I licked him it would make him forget about the thunder, but that just seemed to make him more annoyed. Margi was pretending to be asleep through all this. Eventually I got the thunder stopped and everybody calmed down.

Except I slept in this morning and would have missed going with TBC to get the paper if Margi hadn't dashed downstairs with me. Never a dull moment I guess.

Sunday, July 1

Happy Canada Day everybody. There is a lot of bustle in Port Stanley, and TBC and Margi have been busy with the Heritage Port display and sales table, but I have been keeping cool inside. It has been a really hot and muggy week We are going to the Woodstock dog show next Saturday, so I hope it gets a bit cooler. Margi took me down to the creek a couple of days ago, and I spent a long time chasing a butterfly, which doesn't sound very macho, I admit. A couple of days before that TBC and I met a baby raccoon at the creek. It was about half the size I am. I think I could have made friends, but TBC wouldn't let me get any closer than a foot to it.

TBC and Margi were laughing at me last night, which is never very nice. They were sitting on the deck reading and eating potato chips, and TBC looked up and said, "Where's the dog?" So naturally I crawled out from under the bench where I was lurking and came over to see if I might be able to scarf up a potato chip. A long discussion ensued, the gist of which was that I respond equally well to Hamish or Dog. I don't see why this should surprise anyone, except that it is rather rude to refer to me as Dog. If I were talking to somebody, I wouldn't say, "The human is watching television". Speaking of television, we watched a really bad movie last week called Best in Show. I stopped watching it halfway through, and TBC and Margi thought it was really crummy. TBC thought the dogs should have had speaking roles instead of merely being used as props, and was really annoyed that they had such a bad looking Norwich as the supposed show dog. Mostly when I watch TV I just listen to the sound track. TBC says that he had never really been aware how often there are dogs barking on the soundtrack, even if they have nothing to do with the show. He is now, because I always put in my two cents worth, which sometimes gets me a stiff reprimand along the lines of, "For God's sake Hamish, shut up."

Monday, July 9

Well, Mikey and Potsy and Alfie and Dapper and I didn't win on Saturday in Woodstock, but it was a good show anyway. We arrived at 8:30, expecting a 9:30 ring time, and set up my grooming table with all the other cairns. Margi had no sooner started grooming me when somebody announced that the judge had just done 30 dogs in 20 minutes. Mass panic ensued. It was pretty funny as we all rushed over to the ring, only to find that the judge had disappeared. So then we had to wait around for half an hour, but it gave me a chance to get to know some of the other dogs a little bit.

Other than that, not much is going on. Nancy and Rob and John and Betty and Wyatt are all coming down in another two weeks time, so that will be exciting. We went for a walk yesterday in a small provincial park at Tyrconnell.