Category: dogs

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The Truffle Diaries – incarceration

Dear Diary,

This is day two of my incarceration in this place. My people have left the hapless hound and I in the care of these people for two weeks.

Us in the Time Before

This place that I am imprisoned in lacks basic comforts, despite us being used to caravan space whilst our people build their own home, and I am sorely tried by the lack of high roosting places from which to pounce.

All available high shelf space seems to be full of books, scrabble boards and other such fripperies, all of which are in my way.

The female moved her teapot and seed box reluctantly yesterday to free up a degree of shelf space for me, and I shall of course now never use it.

I have gone through my stand-offish phase and I am pleased to report that the temporary carers are starting to soften up nicely. A few days of lurking under the bed and perching on the edge of the duvet ready to take flight at the slightest movement from them have them nicely under control.

I am not asleep but perched, ready to pounce

Phase two of my plan is now underway. The female seemed helplessly pleased to see me join them for breakfast today, and let me lick a smear of butter off her toast plate, so it will be but days until I have them exactly where I want them.

Not on the bed with Mr Crabby

The hapless hound just frolics with them and offers them his love and his disgusting Mr Crabby toy without thought. The fool. He does not make them work for it.

I shall post when I can. I hope that they will not find these scratchings for some time.

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Heartbroken

We are heartbroken.

Bertie on the croft

Bertie, our 13 year old spaniel, has been getting more and more infirm as the months have passed, and over the last week has been unable to make his back legs hold his weight.

His increasing distress and confusion gradually reached a level that meant today we took the sad decision that he had been through enough, and that we should put him to sleep.

It was quick and painless and we were relieved to both be able to be with him at the end. We brought him home and found a peaceful corner of the croft where we have buried him.

Tonight the caravan will be so quiet without him.

Rest in peace, lovely little hound. Your funny, furry presence will be missed by us more than words can say. X

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Work boots and packing boxes

We ran out of bread yesterday afternoon, so husband offered to pop into the local Tescos to pick some up.

The last thing I was expecting was for him to come back with a bargain pair of steel-toe capped work boots for me.

He returned and presented me with them with a flourish worthy of a man clutching a large bunch of red roses. Who says romance is dead!

I guess this means that I am going to have to pull my weight on the build, then… 🤔

I secretly love them. I may never take them off.

These have been added to the rapidly growing pile of knee pads, work trousers and power tools that are filling every free space in the house at the moment. This is the reality of a household getting ready to move in just a few weeks time.

Bertie, our ancient but lovely spaniel, has been reduced to sleeping in odd corners wedged between the boxes wherever he can.

I can see that he is perplexed by the erosion of his space, with boxes forming cardboard labyrinths around the house.

Poor dog. At his age he deserves peace and quiet, and a degree of constancy, and all we give him is change..

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Of sick dogs and cancelled flights

We’ve been waiting impatiently for the opportunity to get back up to Skye for the last three months now.

Work schedules, family commitments, and the time it took to complete the croft purchase all conspired to stretch that time out to what seemed like an agonisingly long wait.

But eventually the week of the flight to Inverness approached and we started packing our bags and finalising the visit arrangements. And then disaster struck.

In the week before we were due to leave, our lovely old spaniel got sick. Up several times a night, my husband slept downstairs on the sofa with him so that he would be close in case anything happened. Bertie was listless and weak, had continual diarrhoea which his medication didn’t seem to be helping, and we were terrified that his time had come.

We cancelled the flight and the accommodation. We cancelled the dog sitter. We couldn’t leave him.

Exhausted from several nights of worry and scant sleep, we despaired of when we would get the chance to make the trip again, feeling both frustrated and guilty at voicing our feelings at a situation that was of no-one’s making.

Last night he turned the corner. He brightened. He started to eat again. We breathed again and watched in delight as he gained in energy. We dared to wonder whether we could get him comfortable enough over the weekend to squeeze a short few days in on the island out of the original week that we had planned.

The bags are still there, still packed on the bedroom floor, awaiting the outcome of the next few days.