Category: Alex

Alex, autumn

Mud, Mud Inglorious Mud…

christinahollis
Blueberry Leaves In Autumn

It’s been a funny year.  It’s the end of November, but I’ve only started heating the greenhouse in the past few days. Our cherry trees, whose leaves usually turn glorious sunset colours before dropping, are hanging on like leaden green rags. Out in the wood there’s been more in the way of seasonal colour. Birch leaves are small and heart-shaped, hazel leaves deckle-edged discs. With the shortening days they’ve all turned bright yellow. One or two seedlings have escaped from the beech wood to light up the understorey of the conifer plantation. They make it look cheerful on the dullest day. When the sun shines, they really glow.

In the garden at Tottering Towers, the blueberry bushes always put on a great autumn show. They’re the plant with everything—beautiful flowers which bees love, delicious fruit, and each November they turn fiery red, without fail. They grow best in lime-free soil and must never dry out, but as they’ll grow happily in containers this isn’t a problem. Mine are planted in big plastic tubs filled with ericaceous compost. They stand in trays which I keep topped up with rainwater. Unlike most plants, blueberries don’t mind standing in water.

The whole countryside around here is used to wet feet. It’s been drizzly for weeks, but a few days ago the weather turned stormy. Torrential rain went on for hours, only relieved by heavy showers. The River Wye is higher than it’s been for months. Sliding down banks between forest tracks is like the worst episodes of cross-country running at school. With most of the leaves now off the sweet chestnuts of the bluebell wood and the ground covered with nuts, squirrels are everywhere. Alex, our retriever/labrador cross is far too slow to catch them before they spring up to safety in the trees. That doesn’t stop him trying. When we reach a road on our walks I put him on the lead for safety. I have to be careful to spot the squirrels before he does, as he’s prone to mad dashes. Yesterday, he saw a squirrel I didn’t, leapt forward and almost yanked the lead out of my hand. Next thing I knew, I was flat on my back looking up at the sky through those last few autumn leaves. I’d lost my footing on the muddy ground, and went down splat.  Luckily this happened only a hundred yards from our house. It was a cold, wet walk home!

Alex, birdwatching, crossbill, wild boar, Wildlife

A Winter Walk—With Added Shivers…

christinahollis
One of our dog-walking routes

We haven’t had many bitter days here so far this winter, so the wildlife has been fending for itself, deep in the woods. The exception are the grey squirrels, who try their luck every day with our supposedly vermin-proof bird feeders, whatever the weather.

Despite the big animals such as deer and badger being pretty much invisible during mild daylight hours, Alex the dog and I had quite a shock the other day. I was glad we had the company of OH when it happened.  

We keep Alex on the lead until we’re deep in the woods as he can act the naughty adolescent if he spots one of his doggy friends heading in a different direction. Once he’s let off to race away through the trees, we wander along looking at what’s new in the forest. 

A crossbill. Guess how it got its name!

That day, we spotted a flock of  crossbills high in the fir trees. I got a new bird book for Christmas, which said  the crossbills’ very dry diet of pine seeds means they often come down to drink at forest pools to quench their thirst.

There are several boar wallows on the route we were taking. It was so cold on that particular day, I thought taking a bath would be the last thing on a boar’s tiny mind, so I let OH and the dog canter on ahead while I went to see if the birds would come down to drink. A short stroll took me to a pool in a large clearing. I crept up to see if there were any crossbills about. There was no sign of them, but something large was rustling about in the brambles and dead bracken on other side of the glade. That made me retreat in a hurry. 

OH and the dog spotted me moving fast, and came to see what was happening. Their sudden arrival put up the big old boar I’d heard in the undergrowth. He shot between us and sped away, disappearing in a flash. It happened so fast Alex was too surprised to react, so OH had him under control before he could think of giving chase.  

A wild boar sow and piglet

I suppose it proves that unless you come between a mother and her baby, the boar really are more afraid of us than we are of them.

Despite that, neither OH nor I was going to give chase to get a photo of the animal we saw. The picture of a sow and piglet on here comes from a brave contributor to Pixabay!

#puppylove, Alex, Pets

Pupdate! A Puppy Update…

christinahollis
Alex at 7 weeks old…

I knew becoming novice dog-owners would be tough, but I didn’t realise we’d be riding such a roller-coaster for a lifetime (sorry, nine weeks).

First, Alex didn’t sleep through the night until he’d been here for four days.  It was harrowing to hear him scream for hours on end. He’d eventually drop off to sleep, exhausted, only to wake half an hour or so later and start howling again. 

Soon we were all —Alex included—shattered from lack of sleep. OH moved into his office in town  and  cancelled the week’s holiday he’d booked to catch up on chores around the house. Our son, who has wanted a dog all his life, did all the research into breeds and breeders and paid for Alex out of his savings, was pretty disillusioned by the racket and sheer, unending misery of it all. 

We racked our brains. What was the puppy so unhappy? He was well fed, had water, toys, a comfy bed, the radio  and a nightlight. We turned the heating off overnight, in case he was upset by the sound of the boiler firing. All that did was to make us all freezing cold, as well as miserable.   


…what a difference 8 weeks makes!

Staggering outside in the half-light at 4am for Alex’s first toilet break of the day, while he was busy I bagged up the usual mess left behind by the deer that somehow manage to break in each night.  Then it struck me—to get from the northern boundary of the garden to wreck our fruit trees, they had to walk across the terrace, only inches from where Alex was (supposed be) sleeping inside, under the window in the living room. 

It only took minutes to shift the puppy’s crate into the kitchen, well away from any route the deer might take on their way to the orchard. That night, Alex had his first experience of unbroken sleep since leaving his breeder, and so did we!

If only transporting Alex by car was so easy to solve. We started off by feeding him in the stationery vehicle then taking short drives to the end of the lane, then to a friend’s house, gradually increasing the distance each time. It doesn’t seem to have any effect. He spends the whole journey yodelling fit to burst.

The cat is another hot topic. Alex was brought up with cats, so he thinks our huge and ancient pest control officer is bound to love him as much as he wants to love the cat. The cat has other ideas. For the first few days, he refused to come into the house. He’s gradually been coaxed back in, but won’t share any space with Alex. Whenever they meet he swells up to twice his already impressive size, hisses and spits. Alex assumes this is a friendly gesture. He advances, and gets firmly cuffed by the cat for his trouble. It’s as though the Archbishop of Canterbury and Richard Dawkins stumble upon each other several times a day. Unconditional love meets immoveable obstacle… 

Have you got any solutions for our puppy problems?

Alex, dog training, greenhouse

Update on Alex, 9th May

christinahollis
Lessons in the orchard, 7th May 2016

Success! If I never teach Alex anything else, I won’t worry—he will now do the one thing that’s vital here, 365 days a year. He’ll stay quiet outside the greenhouses, while I’m working inside. That doesn’t sound like much, but his first “puppy frenzy” while he was inside a greenhouse with me sent pots, canes and labels everywhere. From that moment, he was banned until he’s old enough to be more sensible.

I shut him outside: he screamed the place down and battered at the door (a cacophony which echoed round the valley horribly at 5am!) until he managed to slide it open wide enough to get his nose in. After that, widening the gap was easy so it was no obstacle. He led down, and pushed his feet against the door to slide it sideways, so I now have to block it.

It took three more visits to the greenhouse for me to teach him that I only take any notice of him when he stays quiet. Feeling like the world’s most hard-hearted dog-owner, on the first occasion I ignored him completely while he howled and warbled.

That time, the racket went on for minutes. When he stopped, I went out and made a fuss of him, and handed over plenty of treats.

On our second visit, the noise only carried on for about thirty seconds.

The third time, he sat down outside the house and eventually fell asleep in the shade. That’s been the pattern ever since, thank goodness.

Result!

Alex, Care and Connect, cats and dogs, Ellie and Freddie, Labrador, Pets, puppy, Spring

Puppy Power!

christinahollis
Dogs have owners, cats have servants.

DD always wanted a puppy. We said no, as they’re such a responsibility and the whole family has to be committed to the idea as dogs are so dependent on humans. Eventually, we gave in and let her have a tiny kitten instead, as cats are more able to fend for themselves. Jynx the Norwegian Forest Cat grew into an enormous hunter of four-legged furry creatures. He’s an old timer now, but although he’ll catch anything from shrews to squirrels, he’s terrified of everything else. This includes our neighbour, who fed him on the couple of occasions our family has all been away from home together.

Son No. 1 started asking for a dog the second he could talk, arguing that the cat belonged to his sister and he didn’t have a pet of his own. We held out for years, but so did Son. Nothing would put him off. We told him he could open an animal sanctuary once he owned his own house. He kept on. Once he was fifteen and thinking about working with animals, it seemed like more than just a phase. We told him to do all the research, hoping the costs and work involved would deter him.  It turned out that was the worst thing we could have said. He attacked the task with the zeal of a Dr Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory. Breeds were narrowed down, and he decided he wanted a male golden retriever puppy. He even decided on a name for it—Alex.

Once Son No. 1 saved up enough money, he tracked down Kennel Club approved golden retriever breeder Gaynor Vines.  Some of Gaynor’s puppies have gone to be companions and assistance dogs for autistic children, so it sounded like a partnership made in heaven. Son No. 1 still had to convince Gaynor that he (and the rest of our family) were fit and proper people to take on the big responsibility of owning a golden retriever for anything up to fifteen years. He passed the test, paid his deposit, was

Alex on viewing day

put at the top of the waiting list, and we settled down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Nature is unpredictable. Before any purebred golden retrievers became available, a lovely litter of retriever/labrador cross puppies arrived, and our son fell in love.

There were ten babies, seven girls and three boys. A viewing day was arranged so potential owners on the waiting list could pick which puppy they wanted. As Jeff was top of the list, his appointment was first, at 10:30am one Saturday morning. Armed with his list of things to look out for, we went to view the puppies. First we met their mum and dad, Ellie and Freddie. You can see a lovely picture of Freddie on the banner of the Care and Connect Facebook Page. Both parents were quiet, friendly and most importantly, their whole canine family had been home reared in company with several cats. We wanted to be sure of this, so our new arrival wouldn’t bother with Jynx.

The puppies were only five weeks old, and their resistance to the outside world was still low. We had to go through a disinfectant footpath and weren’t allowed to touch the puppies ourselves, only look at them as they played around on the other side of a low partition.  It was impossible to choose between between the three little dog puppies. They were all beautiful (of course!) but more importantly they were equally well grown, lively and inquisitive. We asked the breeder loads of questions, and watched the puppies playing with each other, and with her. They had the run of most of a large room, with lots of toys. There were unusual things, too—a collection of metal ladles and spoons, and  tunnels made from short lengths of wide plastic pipe. Their environment was designed to make sure they grew up accustomed to all sorts of unexpected sounds and experiences. It would be our job to carry on this work of socialising Alex to people, places, and things after we brought him home.

When you’re getting ready to welcome a new puppy into your home, there’s as much to do as when you’re waiting for a human baby. And the similarities don’t stop there! Next time, there are tears at bedtime and sleepless nights, so make sure you don’t miss the next episode.

For more news about  Alex, life here at Tottering Towers and (with luck) a recipe for Orange Polenta cake, drop me an email at christinahollis(at)hotmail.co.uk with the words “Spring Newsletter” in the subject line.