Twist in the Tale.
If only I'd had one of these...
Well, that’s a turn up for the books. We got to the vets today, all grim faced and worry-lined, expecting to see Phoenix swallowed up into the Hospital complex like something from a James Bond film or Man from U.N.C.L.E. (except this would be dog from Beaford, but you get the general idea), while we wailed and gnashed, EXCEPT that the vet opened Phoenix’s mouth had a look in and one of the problem teeth was gone, it must’ve fallen out yesterday. So, she had a look at the other one, put her finger on it and it WOBBLED! “It’ll fall out later today or tomorrow” she said, handing Phoenix back to us after a bit of dog-vet cuddling had been completed.
So we we went over to the Common instead for a 2 hour walk all over the place, then home for extra crunchy chicken wings, well for Phoenix anyway. In between we had a strange encounter with an “eccentric” character in the high street who kept insisting that Phoenix was a Rhodesian Ridgeback , and would therefore need to be trained to kill lions. Later, he then got stroppy and spittle-flecked, when we told him that animals had been used and killed by the armed forces in war. Not even mentioning The Animals in War Memorial in London could shift his position. He ended the conversation by suddenly saying “There’s no point in talking to you”, which in truth he hadn’t been: he’d actually been incoherently monologuing at us while Phoenix tried to steal boxes of fudge from him that he had in a bag, used for swinging around him as some kind of conversation punctuation device. We cheerily waved him goodbye as he stomped off into the distance… Gotta love ’em.
A Tooth for a Tooth.
The Fateful Dental Exam....
At this weeks ringcraft class, one of the judges took a look at Phoenix’s teeth and informed us that she has two infant teeth growing alongside her adult ones. If they aren’t removed they could alter the shape of her mouth, cause all sorts of dental problems and most importantly, a lot of pain. There’s no way around it, Ms Phoenix is gonna have to go see the dentist…
…She’s going in to the vets for her operation on Tuesday. She should only be in for a few hours though, not overnight… 😦
You a Wire Haired Vizsla, Yeah?
Every night at about 8.30 everyone hits the sofas and lollops around for a few hours. Recently, we’ve been watching Modern Toss and Life in Cold Blood with the eternally wonderful David Attenborough. It must be the bright colours and the sound design because Phoenix is absolutely fascinated by the TV. She also went into a barking frenzy at the sight of giant turtles. This took everyone by surprise. Those turtles really flipped her wig…
The Business of Show.
We’re now in full preparation for Phoenix’s official first show – she’s in a graduate class at the 3 day long Taunton and District Canine Association Open Show in a couple of weeks where she’ll be showing amongst much older and considerably more experienced handlers and dogs. It could go either way: she’ll either show like a dream, or wreak havoc and chaos around her like an anarchist mob in a grump. It’s the not knowing that lends an edge to the whole thing….
Meanwhile Phoenix continues to grow apace and we’re hoping that she eventually slows down before morphing into a new breed: the GHWV (Giant Hungarian Wirehaired Vizsla). This impression wasn’t helped any when we were approached by an admiring family when out walking recently. They said in an emphatic rather than questioning way: “She’s a Great Dane, isn’t she?”
Memorable recent canine HPR interactions for Phoenix have included numerous Weimaraners in a variety of shapes, ages and sizes, and a gorgeous pair of GSP (German Shorthaired Pointer) boys with whom she had a great romp whilst we owners all held a mutual appreciation meeting. She also took a particular shine to Merlin, the spectacular Irish Wolfhound whom we met at ringcraft. Merlin was rescued from a pub in Liverpool where he was being “kept” by a couple of teenage boys who mistakenly thought that because Wolfhounds were very big, they’d make good fighting dogs. Wolfhounds are *very* gentle and who knows what horrors would have befallen Merlin if he hadn’t been scooped up and delivered to his new and very loving home. It’s nice to hear of a happy ending for a change…
Scarface.
Scarred?
Phoenix was very briefly attacked by a collie-cross while we were out walking recently. She approached her potential new pal, wagging and jolly to say hello who then promptly, and without warning bit her on the face. She now has an inch-long and currently rather conspicuous cut on her cheek. We’re desperately hoping that this won’t leave a long term scar, but it will probably be some weeks before we’ll know. Thankfully it hasn’t in any way put her off saying hello to other dogs though, which is good.
Her recall and general ability to sit, stand etc. has improved enormously and she regularly manages to impress other people when we call her away from them. That click and treat thing has worked wonders.
On our walk today Phoenix was cooed over by a family with two Border Terriers who referred to them as their “border terrorists”, which made us giggle.
Electric Boogaloo.
Cool New Game: pretending to say hello to Adam, then stealing his glasses off his face and waltzing off with them with an evil cackle and a wag of the tail which I believe the Armish would refer to as “proud” while Adam crashes around the place like a breakdancing hippo. I’m sure it’s funny to someone….
Bee Bee See.
Now, that much of the “testing” early puppy period is starting to fade into memory, albeit heavily blogged memory, we are now entering the stable period of our life with Phoenix. Of course the term stable is a relative one compared to say, mud slides in Latin America or erupting volcanoes in Japan, but the upshot of this is that the only things we have to report at the moment can really be filed under: “cavalcade of whimsy“….
…Phoenix inadvertently discovered bees recently, when our neighbour Eric took Tim and her for a trip around his apiary. One bee stung Phoenix on the ear and she sat down on the ground unsure of what had happened and emitting a very faint whimper. A second sting followed, and then it really kicked off and Tim, Eric and Phoenix headed rapidly for cover. Interesting fact alert: did you know that if one bee stings you it instantly communicates to all the others in the hive via pheromones and they all come a-hurtling ready to lay down their bee lives in defense of the colony. No, neither did we, until all parties (minus the grumpy bees obviously) barricaded themselves into Eric’s house pending the return of calm.
Meanwhile, there was an anxious moment or two wondering if we’d have to rush Phoenix off to the Vet Hospital as we didn’t know if she would have an anaphalactic reaction to the bee stings. This, thankfully, was not the case and essentially she barely noticed what had happened and had a “what’s all the fuss about?” look on her face during the inevitable faffing and panicking going on around her.
We’re Not Scared of Sinking Sand.
By the Sea.
On the Beach.
WOW what a warm and calm day it was today, too good to be stuck on the internet. So we packed a flask and some water and headed out to the beach again. This time we touched down on Northam Burrows which, when the tide is low, is really like being on another planet. The sea was at least a mile out, so we were walking on the seabed with all its little pools and strange patterns on the sand. We ignored the story our friend Robie had told us about her plunging hip deep into sinking sand and just strode on to the horizon without a care…
Larging it with a Spaniel.
Crab Hunting.
Driftwood.
Phoenix swam with a spaniel, splashed in the sea, dug in the sand, hunted for crabs and met a Weimaraner and a Pointer together, making three Pointer Sisters but with better hair.
Seaweed Hostage.
The light was fantastic today with lots of warm tones being emphasised because of the low sun. This meant that Phoenix’s coat was radiating an intense copper glow. She looked great.
The Modern Antiquarian.
Curious.
At Scorhill.
This w/end was the first trip to Dartmoor, to the “strange and eerie” Scorhill Stone Circle which Dartmoor folklore says animals often refuse to enter because of “bad vibes”. This didn’t stop Phoenix or the fifty or so horses that rode through on a point to point meet from frolicking in the middle. The horses were a magnificent sight, and one rider shouted at us “I’ve got two of those” pointing at Phoenix as she cantered by. However on investigation, this turned out to be a false positive – she lives with two smooth haired Vizslas…
Phoenix and Proud Dad.
We had a picnic by the beautiful granite strewn West Teign River and despite all the exciting sights, smells and distractions, Phoenix used the small percentage of her genetic code that comes from bloodhound to track down an abandoned pair of socks in the midst of thousands of acres of pristine wilderness. It’s a gift!
Phoenix went back and forth across two ancient granite clapper bridges
Potential Lino Terrorist in the Making.
quite merrily and also got extremely muddy as she plunged into a typical example of a murky, peaty, gooey bog which Dartmoor excels at. Muddy paws rule.
Belatarr Hungarian Wirehaired Vizsla. 