Number58

The all too brief indian summer has passed and the rain has returned. Harry doesn’t really do rain, he’d much rather lie in the garden sunning himself, watching planes and birds flying overhead.

Harry still enjoys his walks, even in the rain, but when he gets back home he stands with a very forlorn look on his face until he gets towelled dry. He just hates being soggy.

Number 58 has been really busy today, not only have we had the painters returning to finish off, but we’ve also had the gas boiler serviced, some electricians doing some work and numerous other friends visiting.

Harry got fed up of trying to keep track of all the strangers in the house, so he took up position right in the centre of the hall. He figured that from this vantage point he could keep an eye on everything and everyone. Harry is so inquisitive he doesn’t like to miss out on anything.

Harry’s attempt at being a supervisor didn’t really work out. It seems as though he was a little bit more hands-on that we originally thought. Or should that be ears-on?

Since the weather has been dry for the last couple of days we’ve finally been able to have some much needed work done to the outside of Number 58. Harry insisted on helping, but rather than help with the actual painting, he preferred to take on more of a supervisory role.

Harry was more than happy to oversee the proceedings, but as work progressed along the wall he grew a little twitchy. When the painter eventually got to his perfectly dug hole at the edge of the gravel bed, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and he was all “Stop him! Stop him! He’s filling in my hole!!”

Harry’s week has been a mixture of highs and lows. He thoroughly enjoyed the beginning of the week while we still on holiday, but now we’re back home he’s sulking at the normality of it all. He just can’t understand why we’re not going to the beach everyday.

Harry’s not the only one that’s not happy about being home. On our return from holiday we found we had a disaster on our hands. When the Number 58 computer was switched on all it could manage was a black screen with a few words of gobbledegook on it. Technoman (a.k.a.Steve) spent a long time trying to sort it out, only to announce hours later, that it had gone phut and was now officially kaput.  My beautiful computer with over 6,500 photographs and every piece of music we’ve ever owned is dead. The hard drive has been fried.

The good news is, that for some reason, I insisted that Technoman do a complete back-up the morning we left for holiday. (He was later heard chuntering that didn’t he have enough to do already?)  So, now we have a new computer, but it’s strange, very stange, and seems to work in mysterious ways. Fortunately everything has been recovered via the back-up, but things are not where I left them, photos are not in the correct folders and documents are all over the place. Don’t even mention my e-mail address book – it’s yet to be located. Every 15 seconds or so I’ve been asking Technoman “What’s this?” “Where’s that?” “How do I do. this?”. He’s so fed up that he’s run off to Leeds with Harry. Who knows if they’ll ever come back?

Ok. Rant over. Thank you for your patience. But if you’ve been wondering why Harry’s blog had gone quiet and then suddenly there’s 4 posts, well it’s something to do with having to buy a new computer. So, back to Harry.

Harry’s week away wasn’t all fun and games on the beach. He’s been to lots of new places and had a lot of new experiences in a busy market town, and since we’ve been back home he’s also been in to the city again. This week has also seen him trying to cock his leg when he needs to pee, instead of squatting. The first time he did it we couldn’t stop giggling, it seemed to happen by accident. Harry was on a free run – there was a patch of really tall grass and it was obviously tickling him as he squatted, so his right leg went up in the air. Trouble is he tried to raise it while still squatting, and almost fell in the process. He jumped back up, looked around indignantly and was all “who pushed me”? The second time, he didn’t attempt to do it from a squatting position, he just cocked his leg, but was so obviously fascinated by the whole process that he tried to turn around to watch. The end result was just the same and over he went again, as indignant as ever.

Harry’s highlight of the week could be any one of his adventures from his holiday. Most likely he would choose one of his romps through the sand dunes, although we probably wouldn’t agree – after his rolling episode we got very nervous in those dunes.

On the last day of our holiday we visited the Tree House, part of The Alnwick Garden.

Harry was fascinated by the whole experience, especially along some of the higher walkways, where he could peer down between the cracks to the ground below. There are also a couple of suspended rope bridges, but Harry wasn’t too sure, so we didn’t push him to walk over them.

Part of the Tree House contains a restaurant and so we decided to eat there that night. We thought it was a great idea and so did Harry. He duly installed himself under the table and then went very quiet. We thought he’d gone to sleep, but when we bent down to check on him we were horrified. We suddenly realised we had a potential disaster and possible eviction on our hands. Everyone knows that dogs love sticks, and Harry had his own personal supply.

This is what Harry was faced with under the table.

We were saved by a three pice band who appeared to play some live music while we ate. Harry found the music, especially the mandolin, much more interesting than the sticks. Phew.

One of the great things about the beaches in Northumberland is the dunes, a real bonus for inquisitive pups at the end of their walk on the beach.

The dunes are full of interesting things to sniff and clumps of grass to investigate. They are also some very unpleasant things to be found, and true to form Harry found something. Something particularly nasty. Then he rolled in it. Twice.

If you’ve never encountered the odour of fox poop before, then count yourself very, very lucky. There’s a certain je ne sais quoi about it, it’s difficult to describe, but it’s not something we ever want to smell again.

We had no alternative, we couldn’t go back with Harry looking and smelling like something out of a horror movie, so it was back to the sea for a wash. Of course the tide was out, a long way out, and when we finally got to the water’s edge, Harry was tired and didn’t want to get wet again. No amount of throwing bits of seaweed into the sea would entice him in, so there was nothing else to do, one of us had to lead the way.

I’d like to say there was a discussion, and the decision was a fair one, but it wasn’t. The North Sea? In September? You’re kidding. This was a man’s job, no doubt about it.

Needless to say, as soon as Harry was clean we were off that beach at the speed of light. And Harry was on his lead for the trip back through the dunes.

Harry has recently become very adept at posing in particularly scenic locations, probably because there’s usually a treat involved. However, getting him to sit still on the beach, for even just one second, proved to be almost impossible. Bamburgh beach has to be one of the most beautiful beaches in this country, especially with the back drop of the magnificent castle, so we had what can only be called a conflict of interest.

Harry desperately wanted his treat, but on the other hand he desperately wanted to run, jump, sniff, play and do whatever else dogs do when on the beach. But Harry is part Labrador, and Labradors are always motivated by food. So the offer of a treat won and he sat, only for a millisecond, but he did sit.

Harry discovered a new skill while on the beach – digging. Not the kind of digging he does at home, where he’ll dig until he finds a stone of the desired size, then stop and run into the house with his bounty, ever so pleased with himself.  No, this kind of digging was more frantic, more manic, and the purpose is still a mystery to us.

Harry was having a great time digging until the waves, which were steadily creeping up the beach, suddenly swallowed up his hole, right in front of his nose. Harry was aghast, where had his hole gone? He ran round in circles a couple times, a look of complete disbelief on his face. Who had stolen it?  Where had it gone?  What happened to MY hole?

Harry started to dig another, this time with much more determination, and when eventually he was satisfied it was the right size, he laid claim to it. No one was going to steal this hole, at least not while he had his head in it.

Harry’s week has been full of excitement, from meeting the new pup Burley to going on holiday to the beach, and at times it’s all been a bit too much so he’s had to take an afternoon nap. Harry’s very particular about where he takes his naps, and if there’s a patch of sunlight somewhere, anywhere, he’ll find it. It might only be the size of a postage stamp, but he’ll claim it as his own.

Harry’s also been out and about in a strange town visiting lots of shops, pubs, restaurants, and teashops, all of which were new to him. They were full of lots of new and interesting smells, but he behaved exceptionally well in all of them, despite all the attention he received. On one particular visit to a tearoom we sat in the corner where no-one could see him, so he inched his way across the floor until he was in view. He then lay there fluttering his eyelashes at the ladies on the next table, until eventually they noticed him, at which point he stretched out, turned his head to show off his best side, and was all ‘Oh aren’t I gorgeous, but of course you can’t stroke me, because I’m a Guide Dog Puppy in training!’ Harry can be such a diva sometimes.

Harry simply adores the beach and his highlight of the week had to be the very large stick he found, not the one he carried round for a while, but the one he couldn’t quite manage to pick up. Harry thought it was the biggest stick he’d ever seen, maybe even the biggest stick in the whole world!