Dad Trying To Be Funny.

IMG_0695

Just seen this:

https://www.buzzfeed.com/hilarywardle/dont-adopt-a-border-terrier?utm_term=.ljmo1m5d93#.vdA5L9vlAq

Typically, my dad says there’s a lot more than 27 reasons. He jokingly adds:

28. They are too good at begging and doing the starving Border Terrier act.

29. Their hair sticks to everything but themselves.

30. They are very “in yer face.”

31. They get through chews like they’re going out of fashion, and leave pieces all over your floor.

32. They think you have nothing better to do than scratch their backs.

33. They like to sit on you.

34. They take up almost as much room in the bed as you do. (Notice he said IN the bed).

35. They do exactly the opposite to every other dog at training class.

36. You can’t get away with not sharing your meal with them.

37. They sometimes act like cats – wrapping themselves around your legs, for example.

38. They eat tennis balls and wreck every toy you give them. They particularly enjoy removing the squeakers.

39. They find your feet very useful for resting chews and bones on.

40. They leave chews in your shoes and slippers.

Okay, okay, that’s enough! Guilty as charged. But what would my Dad’s life be like without a Border Terrier, eh? Boring, that’s what!

(Note from Archie’s Dad: It would also be quieter, cheaper, and less hairy!)

Are Border Terriers English or Scottish?

All this hoo-ha about the upcoming vote on Scottish independence has got me wondering. Are Border Terriers English or Scottish? I assume they come from the Borders area between those two nations, but which nation exactly? It is at times like these that a Border Terrier needs to have an answer.

No dog wants to have an identity crisis, but this whole independence business in creating one in me. Should I be concerned about which way the vote might go? If my ancestors were Scottish, then maybe I need to go there and explore my roots – learning skills like haggis-hunting. If, on the other hand, they were English, then do I need to travel north in order to water Hadrian’s Wall?

It’s quite a dilemma, really.

To my great disappointment, my Dad doesn’t have any answers on this most important matter (admittedly, even when he does have answers, they’re often daft ones). All he says is that my predecessor was a Border Terrier cross who came from Wales (that’s even more confusing – could we be from the Welsh borders?). Mum and Dad used to go to Scotland regularly until a few years ago, and they met a Border Terrier in a shop there, whose name was Archie. My Dad thought that was an ideal name for the ilk, and so that’s how I got my moniker. So are we Scottish dogs, then?

It’s probably a bit politically incorrect to look at it this way, but do national stereotypes have anything to do with it? It Scots are seen as bold and fiery, while the English are seen as more reserved, then I’m definitely Scottish. I am definitely very in yer face, and one of my nicknames is Archie the Bold (or Archie-bold). Reserved just isn’t me.

What about colouring? I’m reddish in colour, and my Dad thinks that’s more Scottish. He says he used to see comedy red wigs for sale in Scotland, complete with tartan hat, and he always wanted to see a rather posh English colleague of his wearing one – I always said that my Dad was puddled.

So far, Scotland is winning, but more research is needed. My Dad had a look at a mug in the cupboard which has a picture of a Border Terrier on it, and a bit of information written on it as well. My Dad loves doing research like this – seeking answers from such authoritative sources. Sadly, it doesn’t answer the question, simply saying that we originate from the borders of England and Scotland (well, at least that eliminates Wales).

A Scottish Scene

A Scottish Scene

My Dad then consulted Wikipedia, which was bound to have an article on Border Terriers. Now, what does it say about us? Intelligent…friendly…yes, of course – although it doesn’t mention how handsome we are.

Ah, here we are – history…Coquetdale…Redesdale…Northumberland! I’m English! Pity in a way, as I was just getting used to being a Scot and wondering how to bark with a Scottish accent. Now I have to learn Geordie. Do I have to support Newcastle United or Sunderland? My only real interest in a football is my desire to eat it.

So I won’t be voting in the Scottish independence elections, but as someone who was so nearly a Scot, I have to say that I hope our too nations don’t become too estranged.

Now, how far is it to Hadrian’s Wall?

Human Training (1)

The George Clooney of Dogs

The George Clooney of Dogs

I recently wrote about dog training, so I thought I’d better write about a much more important topic – human training. How is a dog to go about training his human(s)? It is, of course, vital that every canine learns how to do this, as it will result in a more comfortable, pampered life. So, I’ve decided to share some tips, and here’s the first in a series.

A major starting point for training humans is both in the way you look, and in the way that you look at them. The key is to put on your most cute face, and try to look innocent at the same time. If like me, you’re the George Clooney of dogs, this is very easy. But if you have the sort of face that looks like it’s been in an accident, you may have more of a challenge on your paws. Having said that, if you have a face that only a mother could love, and your human Mum chose you, then she must love your face. So, if that’s the case, try to major on the ugly. You could try grimacing somewhat (to make this easy, think of the last time you were made to have a bath), and I really recommend long strands of drool hanging from your mouth – that really piles on the “characterful” look in spades.

If like me, you’re really handsome, then you need to work with your natural style. Although I have the attractiveness of George Clooney, my hairstyle is more like Bob Geldof’s. So I emphasise that. It suits me and has all the human ladies swooning. Beware, though, if you have a Dad like mine. He often tries to smooth down my hair so as to try to make me look smart (he’s the sort of man who uses a comb every day, you see – at least he still has hair, even if he is old). My view, however, is that you can look smart and sophisticated without having every hair smoothed into place. So if my Dad does his smoothing bit, I immediately shake myself as hard as I can, and then go for a roll on the floor somewhere. That puts everything back out of place, and not only do I feel better, I look fantastic.

I mentioned that it is not only about the way you look, but about the way that you look at your humans. I have carefully cultivated a relaxed, innocent, butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth sort of way of looking at mine. I just relax my features, think blank thoughts, and Bob’s your uncle. It gets them saying “Aaaaaah” in that soppy way pretty quickly, and before you know it, you are being showered with strokes, cuddles, treats, food, and other things that a dog loves.

So there we have what I believe is the key to the whole business of how to get your humans to do what you want: look cute, and look at them cutely. In later posts I will share with you other steps you can take beyond this in order to achieve your goal of an obedient human.

Dog Training. Hmm…

I need a rest.

I need a rest.

The picture describes how I felt after my Mum recently took me to a dog training class.

Now, I reckon that I’m pretty well trained – I know how to eat, sleep, walk, run, shed hair, lick, leave bones everywhere, and look out for cats*. So why do I need any training? (Believe me, you do – Dad). Mum and Dad say that I’m not obedient enough (moi?), and that I can get a bit upset around other dogs that I’m not sure I like. They would like me to be a bit more responsive to their wishes, and to turn the other cheek when another dog disses me – which is quite often.

Anyroadup, my Mum took me to this hall in a nearby village, where a regular dog-training class is held. We had to do some of the usual stuff like Stay and Come, and then doing an intertwining walk around the circle of other dogs with their Mums and Dads.

Although I say it myself, I think I did pretty well. I did more-or-less what I was asked to do, and did it more-or-less when I was asked to do it. The treats as rewards helped, of course. (I’m currently trying to come up with a ruse to get more treats per reward, but don’t tell my Dad about that).

The trouble is that the man who does the training frightens me a bit. I’ve seen him several times before, I’m sure he’s a very nice man, and I don’t feel any urge to bite him. But he does put the wind up me somewhat, and I tend to end up a quivering wreck whenever I meet him. Hence the picture at the top of this post – I really did feel the need for a lie down. It’s hard that the feeling is so intense.

Why do I feel the way I do? Maybe I don’t like being told what to do. Maybe I’m stubborn. Perhaps I just want to do those things that I want to do, rather than what others want me to do. I’m sure I’m not the only dog like that.

And it’s not just dogs. My observation is that humans can also be pretty reluctant to do what others want them to do. Kids seem to have a particular problem with it, but so do adults.

So the next time your dog doesn’t do what you want him or her to do, ask yourself the question: “Am I more or less stubborn than my dog?”

 

*Other things I’m well-trained in: snuggling up to my Mum, putting my chews on my Dad’s feet, jumping on the bed, sneaking under the duvet, head-butting unwary humans who get too close, complaining if I’m left alone, and flatulence. I’m sure there are others.

The Toad

Common Toad

Common Toad

In common with – I suspect – most dogs, I go out into the back garden (or yard, for my American friends) last thing at night in order to do what a dog has to do before going to bed. Now, I realise that it’s not always the quickest of processes because it takes time to find exactly the right spot before the decorous lifting of one hind leg.

I must also admit to taking a little bit longer about it because I like to check all the boundaries, sniff under the fence and gate, and generally make sure that there are no cats hiding in the bushes. For about the last week, though, I’ve taken even longer due to the presence of toads.

Funny things, toads. They’re a funny colour and are therefore hard to see among the foliage – especially in the dark. Also, they tend to hop about, which makes them hard to keep track of. Now, a dog is blessed with an enhanced ability to sniff things out, and Border Terriers are pretty determined when it comes to catching things.

So it was with considerable satisfaction that I held the toad in my mouth and took it into the house to show Mum and Dad. To my equally considerable surprise and disappointment, when I dropped it onto the kitchen floor, they did not receive my gift with the unalloyed joy which I had been expecting.

Common Toad

Common Toad

I must admit that it was bigger than they might have wanted, very dark green in colour, and it wasn’t moving. Mum and Dad were bending over, staring at it. “It’s a frog,” said Dad, perceptive as usual, but getting it wrong because it was a toad. “It looks dead to me.”

Mum, being the less squeamish of the two, crouched down and prodded the creature dubiously with one finger. “I think it’s alive” was her conclusion. It still wasn’t moving much, though, which was a shame, as I had been hoping to chase it around the house. Mum gingerly picked up the toad, and put it outside on the grass, Dad declaring “If it’s still alive it’ll be gone in the morning.”

It turns out that at Mum and Dad’s previous house (before my time, when they had a black Border Terrier cross named Sooty), a family of frogs had moved into the greenhouse, and Sooty had never quite known what to do about them. He would just sit and stare at them, looking surprised when they jumped. My view is different – I like the thrill of the chase. Not so much of this sitting and staring. It it’s still, sniff at it. If it moves, chase it – as the local cats know. Apparently, Sooty used to bring hedgehogs into the house occasionally. Now that’s an idea, if I can find one.

Next morning, the toad was gone, so I assume it had hopped it. I keep looking for him, though.

 

Pictures from Wikipedia. Attributions:

“Bufo bufo”. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bufo_bufo.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Bufo_bufo.jpg

 

“Bufo bufo 2 (2005 07 11)” by Taka – Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bufo_bufo_2_(2005_07_11).jpg#mediaviewer/File:Bufo_bufo_2_(2005_07_11).jpg

 

Hello world?

This is me

This is me

My human Dad has decided that it would be a good idea for me to have a blog. He has this notion that it will be interesting to have a written record of the thoughts, ideas and observations of a Border Terrier.

My first observation: my Dad is completely off his rocker. Nevertheless, I have learned that good things come to dogs who do what their humans want.

Anyroadup, as they say in the North of England, here am I. So long as my Dad keeps at it, I will be posting pearls of wisdom here regularly for your enjoyment. I don’t intend to be too serious, but I do aim to entertain. I will be posting anything that I think will interest or entertain you, and I welcome any comments you may wish to make. My Dad reckons I’m a bit of a character, so I know how to behave.

Until next time mes amis. (French. I am an educated Border Terrier).

Archie (also known as The Archieness).

Like me on Facebook:

www.facebook.com/TheArchieness

Follow me on Twitter:

www.twitter.com/TheArchieness

@TheArchieness