Two Lefts Don’t Make A Right

Walking the dogs this morning set me thinking about what part, if any, the cosmos bears in how our capricious lives pan out. This pondering ignited by something as unremarkable as seeking to understand why my strolling buddies always walk on the opposite side of an obstruction (eg lamp post or park gate) to my…

Geordie Canine Chatter

Spending so much time on my own of late has been a catalyst to me occasionally indulging in absurd faux conversations with my dog companions Deano and Zella. These sporadic episodes ordinarily playing out as I stroll past the little scamps while wandering chez Strachan’s soon to be sold chambers and gardens. My pretend conversations…

A Dog’s Life, My Arse!

With audible similarities to an aardvark sandpapering a brandy barrel (trust me, I know), the soundscape accompanying the commencement of this blog is Deano the Lhasa Apsop’s rasping snore. Little Lord Avashight (as I tend to nickname the diminutive scamp) laid snoozing on the sofa a few feet from my scribing perch. My view that…

Little Dog On The Prairie

Substitute Laura Ingalls skipping through a wheat field with the short legs of a Lhasa apso endeavouring to navigate a way through overgrown park grass, and yesterday’s dog walk provided scenes not unlike the iconic starting credits of Little House on the Prairie. The sheer joy on Deano’s face certainly compared with the young girl’s…

His Bite’s Worse Than His Bark!

At around midday yesterday yours truly walked a tentative, yet still curious, canine into an Ossett dog grooming salon. Bereft of his coat trimming for several weeks, along with being visually hampered by unkempt facial hair, he looked like a neglected waif and stray. Incidentally, the neglected waif and stray was the dog, not me….

Don’t Be Alarmed!

Ordinarily it’s a soothing soundscape borne from the iPhone on my bedside cabinet. An assuasive melody seeking to rise me from the recesses of slumber. A tone playing out as the very anti-thesis of ear-piercing alarms of old which’d shock your night visions into submission, scaring you from your pit in bewilderment looking for a…

Oh-Oh-Oh Deano

Over the past two years, or so, I’ve penned on several occasions about my lab/retriever buddy Coco. The loveable canine force of nature whose exuberance on greeting people is delivered with such forceful excitement it wouldn’t surprise me if her hello registered on the Richter Scale. As a middle-aged man who’d never owned a dog…