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Meg’s Diary

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We took Meg to Camber Sands. At the beach we had a hiccup in the car park. Meg got a whiff of sea air, spotted another dog, started to whirl in circles and leap all over me. No control at all. Husband had walked on, but he noticed (eventually) and came to rescue me before I dislocated something essential. Once on the beach, I removed the lead (wasn’t too sure about this) showed Meg the stick I had brought (which she leapt at, in a very uncontrolled manner) and then started to walk. Like magic, Meg settled into ‘walking mode.’ I walked along the beach, throwing things for her to chase, she followed, absorbed in the game, ignoring everything else.

After a while we stopped and rested on a sand dune. Meg sat on the sand, where she was, and didn’t move. She was not especially near us, but she was watching. I think she was worried I might put on the lead again. She lay on the sand, just watching. Various people walked past her, various dogs walked past her (one brown curly spaniel even bounded up to her barking). Meg just sat, waiting for the game to resume, ignoring everything else. (Husband asked what I would do if she reacted badly to the spaniel. I replied that the spaniel had approached Meg, aggressively barking, and the owner had not stopped it. Therefore if Meg chose to eat it, that was not my concern. Not sure this was the answer he was expecting.)

It was a sunny day, the wind was gentle, the waves were lapping onto the shore. All very lovely. I wanted an ice cream before we went home, but they were deemed too expensive, so we drove home for a cup of tea instead. Well done Meg, a good day out.

Today I took Meg to the supermarket, and tied her up outside. I like doing this—it gives her something interesting to do, she often gets petted by other shoppers, and she waits very patiently. But today someone warned me that ‘the gypsies’ might steal her. This is the second time someone has warned me that she might get stolen. I don’t know whether this is a real risk or not. But she does wag her tail in a very non-threatening manner, so I don’t think anyone would be fooled into thinking she might bite them. And she is a very attractive dog. Bit of a quandary. Not sure what to do in the future.


6/7/2025

The little pony is back in the field next to the house. There are rams in the field too. Meg spends hours at the top of the garden, and refuses to come inside when called. Her and the pony run up and down the fence together, the rams just stand there, looking confused. Meg now smells of horse, so I think the pony must be putting her head through the fence, and is possibly licking Meg. It’s an unusual friendship, but kind of cute.


10/4/25

Today Meg emptied a plant pot and ate the avocado seed I was trying to grow. I found it in pieces all over the carpet. Meg didn’t seem ill (which is lucky, as I know the seeds and skins of avocado are poisonous—maybe she didn’t actually swallow any). I don’t think it will grow now.

I water my houseplants every Friday, and Meg follows me round the house, watching. In the kitchen I have a fern, which is sitting on a tray of gravel so the water can evaporate and keep the leaves humid. (I’m not sure if this actually works, but it’s what the instructions told me to do, and the fern is growing despite being repeatedly bashed by enthusiastic dog’s tail.) The only problem is that Meg prefers to drink the water from the gravel tray than from her bowl. Maybe it’s salty, I don’t know. Without fail, I water the plant every Friday, and as soon as she thinks I am not watching, Meg goes and drinks all the water. I worry that she also drinks some of the gravel, but it’s hard to stop her. She has a full bowl of fresh water always available, plus a bucket of water in the garden (because she is super-messy with water and sort of bites it when drinking instead of lapping it like other dogs). But nothing, it seems, compares to the water in the gravel tray. Except perhaps the extremely germ-filled muddy puddles that we pass when walking in the woods—she will sneak off to drink from those too if she has the chance.

24/4/2025

Yesterday was another low-point in our relationship. I checked the nest in the aviary, and saw the ducklings were hatching, so I needed to prepare a brooder and move mother and ducklings there (because ducks are usually pretty terrible mothers, and if I release them all on the pond, all the ducklings die/are eaten within a week or two). This involved lots of moving around the garden, so I let Meg come with me for the first part, knowing I would need to lock her inside when I moved the ducks or she would bark and cause all sorts of chaos. (Not yet the helpful farm dog I was hoping for.) I decided to throw some sticks for her first, so she could have a run around before being confined again. Bad decision.

I was only half concentrating on Meg, as I was thinking about the best way to move the ducks. There was a moment, when Meg was on the middle lawn holding a fairly big log, and I was on the narrow footpath between the lawns, and I (stupidly) picked up a decent stick to throw, called her, threw it behind me. I had not considered the size of the log in her mouth in relation to the size of the path I was standing on. Meg, as always, hurtled towards the thrown stick, her entire focus on reaching where it fell, all 34kg of her charging at about 20 mph, straight through me. Except of course, she did not go through me, she simply tried to go through me and instead bashed my leg with the log at great force. The log made contact with the side of my leg about 6 inches above the knee, then thudded to the ground when Meg dropped it to continue her charge.

The pain was immense. I cried out in agony, then found I couldn’t stop, and stood there, like a wild animal, howling. Meg took absolutely no notice at all. She ran to the thrown stick, picked it up, danced round the garden with it. When I managed to stop howling, I realised I needed to get to a seat because I felt very sick and dizzy and had pins and needles in both hands (was probably hyper-ventilating). I knew that if I sat/lay on the ground, Meg would bounce on me, and possibly kill me by bashing my head with the log. I hobbled to a garden seat, and sat there, trying to breathe, wondering if my thigh bone was broken, wondering how I was going to get into the house. Meg continued to dance around the garden, coming up to me a few times to entice me to try to get the stick. Her empathy level was nil, zero, zilch. Absolutely no awareness, whatsoever, that I was in agony. None. I have no idea how this compares to ‘normal’ dogs, but I know that Kia was fully aware of my mood at all times, and very attune to my emotions. Not Meg. I genuinely believe that if I dropped down dead she would not notice.

Luckily, Husband noticed my rather strange position on the bench and came into the garden to investigate. (Full empathy points there.) He helped me inside, put Meg somewhere safe, and we tried to sort out whether my leg needed any medical attention. It didn’t—nothing was broken, just incredibly painful. I think I probably bruised the bone, so just a matter of resting it for a few days and taking nurofen for the pain. (Which of course, is complicated by the fact that someone needs to sort out those ducklings, and to walk Meg.)

Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

PS. Leg healed after a few days. The ducklings survived and now live on the pond. Meg is still happily disrupting my life, and I am more careful about watching for bashings from big logs.

Highs and Lows with Meg

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Meg’s Diary 6/3/2025

We returned from a 2 week holiday and collected a happy Meg from the kennels. She is always happy. The kennel staff obviously know her well, and talked about how she insists on carrying the biggest log whenever she’s out, and that she’s very bouncy so they don’t allow the pregnant kennel worker anywhere near her! They told us she is still aggressive towards other dogs when walking on the lead (though not when in the kennel). I haven’t seen this, so not sure what to do. They said it happens when other dogs approach her and aren’t recalled by their owners. I guess as she is on the lead, it’s the responsibility of the other dog owners to recall their dogs. But it’s a shame. I have noticed that when we’re in the car, Meg no longer barks at every dog we pass. I hope this continues. She must have got used to seeing other dogs when in her kennel, so hopefully they have become ‘normal’ in her world.

Before we collected Meg, I felt a bit depressed—I wasn’t sure that I wanted her back, life is so much easier without her. I never felt like this with our other dogs. When she first came home, Meg pretty much ignored me, and was much more excited about going into the garden to greet the gardener than greeting me. This was a low point in our relationship. Later, we had a lovely walk together and I realised that actually, I am very fond of her, but it’s easy to forget that. I hand-fed her for a couple of days to encourage her to bond with me again. But if I am honest, unlike Kia (my ‘velcro-GSD’) Meg would be completely happy whoever she lived with. If I was ill and needed to rehome her, I would have no worries about her settling in, she would forget me as soon as she left the driveway! Perhaps this is what makes working GSD so suitable for police and army work—they focus on the task and are less attached to a single owner. Meg does follow me round the house, but only because there is not a better option. She is good company unless someone/thing is more exciting, and then she leaves me without a backward glance. I find this difficult. Though it does mean I don’t feel guilty putting her into kennels. (I also wouldn’t worry if she was stolen.)

We collected cat-with-snapped-tendon from Son. She was happy there, and did not want to come home. She now has the utility room, so no longer caged, and Meg is not supposed to go in there. Of course, Meg is not keen on this rule. She came in with me today, when I used the washing machine. The cat was on top of her cage, Meg put up her nose, Milly slapped her, repeatedly. I stroked Meg, praised her for being calm, moved her away before she lost all control and bounced on the cat. It’s such a shame they aren’t friends. They would both enjoy the company.

The weather is sunny. This makes life easier as there are less muddy footprints on my kitchen floor. But it means I worry about leaving Meg in the car for too long, so when I go out she needs to be in her cage at home. Although she seems very happy in her cage, I don’t like putting her in there. When I’m home, she is free in the house all the time now, unless her feet are muddy. So far she hasn’t destroyed anything. Mostly she sleeps in whichever room I am working in.

We were having some shrubs planted, and Husband needed to put sticks in the ground so the gardeners knew where to plant them. There was no way we could let Meg witness this—she would have gone back and collected the sticks, and then when the shrubs were planted she would associate them with sticks and go and collect them too. We put her in the hall, where she couldn’t see what was happening. So far, the shrubs have survived.

I like throwing sticks for Meg, but there’s always a danger that she’ll try to grab them when I pick them up (and would break my fingers, she is so strong). Therefore, she is meant to ‘wait’ when I stoop to pick up a stick. Sometimes she grabs them anyway, and then I stand, and wait for her to drop it before I will throw it. Meg understands this, and stands close, looking at me, determined to not release the stick, waiting for me to continue the game with a different stick. I always refuse, it feels important to never let Meg win when we have a stand-off. (This is probably why she prefers everyone else in the world to me—I am the only one who insists she obeys!) This week Meg kept grabbing at sticks (I’m guessing because no one stops her when she’s in kennels) and our walk was very slow—lots of standing, not looking at her, waiting for her to release the stick. She is very determined, and will stand for long minutes, refusing to obey. But I am more determined. One day, I hope she will simply obey—it will make life easier.

One afternoon was perfect. We walked in the woods, I threw sticks, Meg charged backwards and forwards chasing sticks (picture a torpedo, taking down anything that stands in the way). She came when I called and walked next to me on the lead, along the edge of the road but ignoring the cars. We drove into town, and I walked to pay the friend who feeds the poultry when I’m away. Meg carried a stick, and walked next to me, through the station car park, up some steps, along the main road (for 1 minute) and although she was on full-alert she did not chase the cars that passed us. Then we went to Mum’s, and she slept in the back of the car. Then played with a ball while I cooked dinner. In the evening she lay watching telly with us, chewing her chew. Such a lovely dog. Perfectly behaved.

I hope you have something perfect this week too. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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Not a Great Week Here, How About You?

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This too shall pass. . .

Hello and how was your week? Mine was pretty rubbish to be honest, but I survived and by the time you read this (as I write blogs several weeks before I post them) I am sure all will be well again. But this week has been disappointing.

One disappointment is my cockerel, who is super-randy and sees everything else as a competitor to fight. Which means when anyone is in the garden, he starts to dance around them, ready to attack. It also means he attempts to copulate with anything he considers appropriate. He hurt Goose, so I moved him in with the chickens. He is so big and strong, he was damaging their heads (he holds onto the back of their head to keep them still while he ‘covers’ them) and one of my lovely white hens was so badly hurt she died. I now don’t know what to do. He was raised to be company for Goose, and they have been good friends—I love seeing them walking round the garden together, and at night they snuggle in the hay box. But he is currently too dangerous to be free. I have run out of safe places, because I have a mother duck and her ducklings in the spare cage. I am fond of him, so unwilling to eat him or leave him for the fox, but he is a problem.

When I first decided to move him, I shoved him into the duck house, just to keep him safe from the fox and the chickens safe from him. The duck house opens onto the pond. In the morning, I was extremely surprised to find him in the second duck house. This means he must have attempted to escape in the night, and tried to cross the pond—which involves swimming. Chickens cannot swim. He must have had a near-death experience! Silly thing. At least he will have learnt that he can’t swim. (He can fly, but he doesn’t seem to know that yet, and stays inside the fence.) My only solution is to leave him in the pond area during the day (because the ducks can swim away from him) and lock him into the nesting box at night (when the hens are roosting). But moving him is a lot of effort, and it won’t work when I go away, so it’s not a long-term solution.

Another major disappointment was receiving a form from university. It is an assessment form, and has 9 sections, each section is 4,000 words. I did not expect this until next summer, as I am part time, and I have not allowed time to complete it this month. This makes me very stressed. I am hoping it was sent in error, and I need to complete it in 2026, but I haven’t yet heard back from my supervisor. I am trying to be philosophical about this, and I am telling myself that if God wants me to complete the PhD, then as long as I work hard (which I am) all will be fine. But I am still stressed out!

One reason I have so little time is my venesections have started. I have to have a blood test 7 days beforehand (which wastes most of a morning due to delays in waiting rooms). The actual venesections are awful, mainly because they are in the oncology department, and it is very sad being with lots of brave people who are struggling with cancer. The staff are lovely, but the logistics of getting to hospital, and trying to park, and waiting until I can be seen (because health stuff always involves waiting) and then having blood removed for an hour is not my idea of fun. I am tired afterwards—I think mainly due to the stress of it all. And I know I am very fortunate that my condition is treatable, and I am grateful it was discovered in time, but it is still awful.

Not enjoying being a patient.

My last worry is the local election, when the Reform party won in my area. I find this extremely worrying. I am not political, but the only broadcast I have heard by Reform stated that: ‘we have too many immigrants. Most of them are young men. The majority are criminals.’ In my mind, this is hate-speech. This is the sort of rubbish Hitler was spouting in the 1930’s. It ignores the difference between immigrants and asylum-seekers. It ignores the fact that many immigrants are hard-working and our country needs them. It ignores the fact that if people are asking for asylum, and if they genuinely need it, we should be prepared to help them. In my opinion, the ‘criminals’ are the traffickers who bring them on unsafe transport, and the politicians who spread lies and fear. The Reform party have now said they will use their status (and the money that comes with it) to challenge the government so they are side-tracked from governing. This is not what I want my local councillor to do. It saddens me that this is happening. I also feel guilty, because I didn’t make the effort to vote in the local election. We need to start speaking against the mis-information and hate-speech, and we need to be sure to do our duty and vote.

As I said, by the time you read this, I expect my stress levels will have reduced and life will be calm again. Sometimes life is difficult, and we keep going until it’s better again. This too shall pass. Though I have no idea what to do with my randy cockerel.

Thanks for reading, I hope your week is better than mine.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

I will try to focus on the lovely ducklings instead. Their world is full of danger, but they simply get on with living with enthusiasm. They are my happy zone.
****
anneethompson.com
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Meg’s Diary

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27/1/2025

We went to New York (this is January, before the tariffs), Meg went to kennels. She was happy enough to walk in, and greeted the staff like long-lost relatives, so I don’t feel guilty leaving her there. They take her for a walk each day, and she walks around the woods carrying logs (though she’s on a lead, so no chasing sticks).

However, when we collected her this time, they said she is aggressive towards other dogs, and lurches towards them when walking—though is fine when next to them in the kennel. This is a bit like when we drive—every dog we pass Meg barks at (it doesn’t make for peaceful journeys). I’m not sure what to do about it really, as she is fine when she’s with me in the woods.

Actually, she is brilliant in the woods. I forgot to take the lead yesterday, and I didn’t need it. I held a stick when I opened the boot, and Meg waited next to the car, watching to see where I would direct her. Other dog-owners were returning to the car park, and cars were whizzing along the main road, but Meg ignored them all. We had a lovely walk through the woods, I threw sticks, and called her when she got too far away, and she was completely obedient. We passed several other dogs, crossing paths with them, but whether they barked at her or not, Meg completely ignored them. Great. At the end of the walk I called her to heel, and we returned to the car (still no lead). I opened the boot, told Meg to jump in, and …nothing.

This has become a feature. When we return to the car, whether after a quick trip to the supermarket or a long walk round the woods, Meg refuses to get back into the car. She stands there, and looks at me. In her favour, she does not chase other cars or dogs, she just stands there, quietly waiting for me to take her for a longer walk. And I stand there, quietly waiting for her to jump into the car. Sometimes we stand there for a full 5 minutes, staring at each other, fully understanding what is being expected, refusing to give in. I usually break first, and practically choke her by trying to haul her into the boot. At which point she jumps nimbly in, giving me a withering ‘you have no patience’ look. Which is correct, I do not.

I’m not sure whether this counts as obedient or bad. She knows what I want, and doesn’t run away—but nor does she obey and get into the car. When I’m in a rush, it’s infuriating. I have started keeping dried fish treats in the car, as a bribe. The only change is that my car now stinks for fish, Meg still won’t get in.

Always carries the biggest stick she can find!
These were too big, but she tried.


14/2/2025

Meg has been fun this week. She is now fairly reliable when left alone in a room, and usually settles down near a radiator and snoozes. Only fairly reliable, as she did empty a plant all over the kitchen floor—so I wouldn’t leave her alone for too long, but gradually I am trusting her more.

I still cannot let her interact with my other animals though. I doubt she would hurt them on purpose, but she would definitely chase them, and might bounce them, which would be the equivalent to a truck landing on your head. When I’m sorting out the poultry, Meg rushes around, barking and trying to chase them through the side of the fence, which they find very upsetting. I realise I ought to spend time training her –taking her to the coop several times a day, and training her to sit or fetch her ball, thus teaching her to ignore the birds. But life is too busy, and it’s easier for now to just leave her in the kitchen whenever I need to be with the birds. Not ideal, but it works for now.

My other failure is chasing cars in the lane next to the garden. Whenever a car goes up the farm track, Meg charges at full speed along the fence line, trying to keep up with it. It’s good exercise I suppose, but it’s also reinforcing the drive to chase cars, which I really want to break her of—but I cannot be in the garden with her all the time, and there is no other way to stop her. I am telling myself (fully aware that I am probably lying to myself) that she can chase cars in the garden but can learn not to chase cars in other situations. I think this is untrue, but other solutions seem too difficult at this point. Maybe she will grow out of it.

When I return from my morning run, I usually spend some time training Meg. This is very simple—I lie on the lounge floor (where she is not allowed) doing my exercises, and Meg sits in the doorway. I have a ball, which she is not allowed to touch, and every few minutes I throw it, she retrieves it, I take it from her, put it on the floor and tell her to ‘leave!’ and then we start the whole exercise again. Today, Husband was working in the study, and I wasn’t sure throwing the ball up and down the hall would be quiet enough, so I decided to do my exercises on the landing carpet. Disaster! We went upstairs, Meg sat on the mat next to the radiator (her favourite place) I lay down on the floor and whump! A very happy German Shepherd dog landed on top of me! She was so excited, bouncing on me and licking my face, her tail smashing into anything in range as it swung backwards and forwards like a mad propeller. I couldn’t get her off me for ages, she is so strong, and was so excited that I was joining her on the carpet. I’m not quite sure what game she thought we were playing, but it clearly made her very happy. By the time I managed to stagger to my feet, I decided the wrestling match had been more than enough exercise for one day, so I went for a shower.

One afternoon this week, I was very tired but wanted to listen to an online lecture. So I took my phone to bed, and nestled into the pillows, ready for a sleepy listen. Meg followed me into the bedroom (where she is not allowed, but this happens more often than I like to admit) and lay down on the mat. She must have been tired too, because she started to snore. Then the lecture started, and I turned up the volume on my phone. Meg stopped snoring, and groaned. I ignored her. She groaned again. I ignored her. Then her head appeared alongside mine on the bed, and she stared at me, very pointedly, and groaned again. Clearly she was not appreciating the lecture on apologetics. She had a look in her eye that told me that if the noise didn’t stop, she might jump up onto the bed. Not to be encouraged. I took her downstairs, and listened to the lecture in a different room.

Usually when I work, Meg is very good. She lies on the carpet behind me, snoring and farting, with the occasional groan if I work for too long. It’s good (if smelly) company.

I hope you have some good (not smelly) company this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

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anneethompson.com
*****

Meg’s Diary, Life with the Cat

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11/1/2025

Trying to force Meg and the cat to be friends is not, I think, going well. The cages are now pushed next to each other, and on the positive side, they are able to both sleep in them—so for many hours there is peace. But the cat’s cage makes a corridor into the utility room, and the cat knows that when Meg goes in and out, she can reach through the bars and scratch Meg. Meg also knows this, so is very wary of walking past the cage, which results in a lot of barking and bouncing (because that is what a nervous Meg does). I blame the cat for this.

There is also chaos when the cat uses her dirt tray. I don’t know why, but as soon as the cat goes onto the tray, Meg starts to bark and bounce and bang against the cat’s cage. Maybe she doesn’t like the smell (though she emits such awful smells herself, I don’t think this can be the reason).

On the positive side, they have their bowls of food next to each other—either side of the bars—and they notice what the other is eating and don’t try to interfere. Lots of the time life is peaceful, even though they are in close proximity. The cat seems to be the boss, and is the main instigator of trouble—though as Meg is much bigger and has the potential to damage the cat, I really need them to co-exist peacefully, without a constant battle even if the cat starts it. The cat will have to be confined for another two weeks, until her snapped ligament has fully healed. Then we will see what happens. I’m not sure that anything has changed at all, and their relationship will continue to be one of Meg chasing the cat whenever she can, and the cat hissing at Meg from high vantage points. Which is exactly what it was before I started this exercise.

The woods are beautiful this week. The snow is clinging to the trees and the temperature has dipped below freezing, so it has stayed for a few days. Breathtakingly pretty. The ice means that walking is a bit dodgy, and the snow is packed hard from all the dog-walkers, and incredibly slippery. Everyone walks on the edges, where it’s less compacted, which means gradually the footpaths are widening.

The tree men are back, with their great machines of destruction, chopping down trees and churning up the mud. At least now its frozen the wheels will do less damage, but before Christmas was very wet, and they have ruined swathes of woodland by making trenches of mud and destroying the undergrowth. I hope they know what they are doing, and it’s necessary for the health of the woodland, but it looks to me like they are just blokes enjoying big machinery. Yesterday they started work in an area of mainly pines—which is where ‘my’ tree is. There is one tree (I think a beech) which has a very black trunk and a beautiful shape, and it’s very stark against all the surrounding pines. I have noticed it on my walks since 2001; twenty-four years ago when I used to walk my Labrador there. I even wrote a story about it. I do hope it survives the men and their machines.

Meg, as ever in the woods, is very good near the workers—she basically ignores them. Yesterday we needed to walk very close to where they were working, so I collected a few sticks, told her to walk on my right, and we kept our distance, throwing sticks into the woods every few minutes so Meg was on full-alert, waiting for the next one to chase. She ignored the noise of the machines, the moving lorries, the falling trees, the men shouting to each other and the whine of saws. The only thing in Meg’s world was the next stick, and when it would be thrown. (It made her appear very well-trained. But she’s not. She simply has a compulsive desire to chase sticks.)


15/1/2025

Meg has favourite places to lie now (like a proper dog!) She has discovered the radiator on the landing and will lie there for hours, soaking up the heat and waiting for me to come out of my room. She also (weirdly) likes her crate, and will sometimes put herself to bed in there. She also prefers it to the utility room, so if she starts fussing when we eat, I go to the utility room, open the door, call her. Meg stops and looks at me. She understands she is about to be shut away, and she walks, very deliberately, into her crate and sits down. It’s very funny!

Thanks for reading, and have a great week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Meg’s Diary — After Christmas

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Camber Sands

After we had done Christmas with the family who were going elsewhere for the 25th, and then Christmas on the 25th, and then tea with the extended family on the 26th, I was ready for a break. We booked a small house with a garden for three nights, and drove down to Camber.

The house was perfect for dogs, with hard floors throughout, and a kitchen big enough for her crate, a gate into the back garden which was fully fenced and accessed from the kitchen. We dumped our bags, set up Meg’s crate, and then took her to the beach.

Meg confined to her mat. (Works for about 3 minutes.)

Camber Sands is a marvellous beach. It is divided from the Rye beach by a deep wide river that the fishing boats use, and from there, you can walk for miles, all the way to Dungeness. When the tide goes out, there are acres of flat hard sand—popular with dogs and families and horses. Towards Dungeness there are wind-surfers and athletic people (mostly men) riding dangerous wind-powered vehicles and flying into the air attached to giant sails and all sorts of crafts on the water. But down nearer to Rye, it’s safe to walk, and we love it.

To reach the beach, we needed to walk along a road for a few hundred yards, and it was such hard work with Meg. Beaches are often devoid of sticks, and Meg is easiest to control if I am carrying a stick—so I took a supply. Whether it was because I was carrying sticks, or whether it was residue excitement/bad behaviour following the Christmas upheaval, I don’t know, but Meg was terrible! It is the worst she has been near a road for months, and very disappointing. The road is a fast one, and every car that sped past us, Meg barked and tried to chase. I tried to calm her, to stop and make her focus on me, or the sticks, or a food treat—nothing worked. Meg had clicked into ‘wild dog’ and she pulled like a husky and was much too strong for me.

We managed to get to the sand dunes, and I suggested Meg might improve if let free. As soon as she was off the lead, she changed. Now her full focus was the sticks, and as long as I threw one occasionally, she stayed close and watched me closely. I don’t know if this would work when there are cars, but I don’t trust her enough to have her free near a road and I’m not strong enough to tie a lead to my waist. We might both end up under a car.

While Meg was free, she was great. The beach was as brilliant as ever, cold and windy and wild, full of happy dogs and windswept owners. We walked for a while, enjoying the openness of the place, the expanse of sea and sky and air. Meg walked with us, running off to chase seagulls, returning when I called, ignoring all the other dogs. At one point some horses arrived to gallop along the hard sand, and I knew that as long as I kept Meg’s focus on the sticks, she would ignore them. For a while we walked with the wonderful sound of horses hooves pounding the sand next to us, while Meg collected sticks and sniffed seaweed and tested the water for saltiness. This is happiness. There is something about a dog running across a beach that is infectiously joyful.

Other dogs and horses, but Meg ignored them all. All she wanted was a stick!

The rest of the stay was lovely, we did very little, and Meg was mostly contented to sit with a chew while we read or watched telly, and in return we gave her a long windy walk along the beach every day. She continued to be terrible near the road. I even tried to take her for a ‘training walk’ one morning—not planning to go anywhere but just to practice walking properly on the lead, like I did when she was younger. Every time she pulled, I stopped. When she looked at me, and came to my side, we continued walking. After 10 minutes we still hadn’t left the driveway! When I saw a car approaching, I quickly turned her, made her sit, tried to make her focus on me/a treat. Meg sat, heard the car, spun around, lurched towards the car, leapt at it when it passed, tried to pull me after it to chase it down the road. Not a success in terms of training. I gave up at that point and went back inside. For the rest of our stay, Husband had to hold the lead when we walked to the beach and we tried to get over the road as fast as possible. Like I said, Meg was great when on the beach, even if she’s a devil near a road.

The house survived, and there was a vacuum cleaner to clear up the bucket loads of sand that Meg carries in her coat. The sprinkling of sand in every room she went into was constant, even hours after returning from the beach, when completely dry and having been brushed in the garden—always there was sand in her coat. The garden was a big help, though a previous dog had chewed a chunk of the wooden decking (I am assuming it was a dog) and Meg noticed it on the second day. Although she never chewed it, I could see her thinking about it, so we could never leave her unattended in the garden after that, which was a shame. She also developed bit of a tummy upset—I’m guessing down to eating sand and trying to drink salty water. She was very good about telling me when she needed to go outside, so there were never any accidents, but it made clearing up after her in the garden a ghastly job. Taking Meg on holiday is only relaxing up to a point. (But in this case, the pleasure of watching her run on the beach was worth the pain.)

I hope you have some joy this week, and in the year to come. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Meg’s Diary, Christmas 2024

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Christmas 2024 (15 months old)

Watching telly in a rare calm moment.

Christmas was super-exciting, with a tree in the lounge and decorations which were not for chewing, and lots of visitors which were not for bouncing, and a complete abandonment of schedule which had to be coped with. All this was way too exciting for Meg, and she returned to the slightly-hyper, never listening mad dog of previous months. It was a shame, because I had just started to feel that Meg was exactly the dog I had hoped for, and her behaviour combined with Christmas chaos made me feel like one of us needed to be booked into the nearest mental institution!

However, to be fair, Meg did not destroy the tree or decorations. Nor did she steal any of the food that was left around the house. (Food is not her thing really, it’s no good as a reward for good behaviour, but it also means that she has never stolen food.) She was overly excited by all the guests, but it was a friendly, ‘perhaps I could leap on you to greet you’, sort of excitement—there was no fear or aggression in it. Due to the age (and therefore fragility) of some guests, Meg did have to spend longer than normal locked in her crate. She mostly coped with this very well—though I do wonder if it added to the general hyper-excitement when she was free. The main disappointment for me was that she pretty much stopped listening. When we were relaxing watching telly, if Meg started to wander around and I told her to sit, or to take her chew to her mat, she completely ignored me. This was a shame, especially as it meant that when I was really tired and wanted to stop, I had to put Meg back in her crate because I couldn’t rest while she was free.

The cat-with-snapped-ligament is still locked in her crate (she will be for a while). Both Meg and Milly are behaving badly when together, as even if I am with Meg and ensuring she is calm, the cat will hiss at her and try to scratch her through the bars, which then quickly becomes a general shouting/bouncing match. Over the Christmas period there were times when I needed to use the utility room while Meg’s paws dried (and Milly had been moved in there as we needed to use the dining room and the smell of a cat litter tray is not a good accompaniment to a meal!) If Meg was in there after a walk—when she tends to be sleepy—then after an initial bounce/bark/hiss there was peace. This is good. Whilst they are not friends, or to be trusted for long together, there was certainly some kind of truce. It is a start.

I usually walk Meg in the woods, which is a popular place for dog-walkers (and the occasional horse rider) so it’s a good place for Meg to socialise. By ‘socialise’ I mean ‘learn to ignore other animals,’ not ‘go and play with them.’ I learnt this at puppy classes—I need to teach Meg that not everything is her business, and rushing up to an unknown dog is not acceptable behaviour. When there are sticks (and the woods has a steady supply) then Meg is now excellent at this. We can pass other dogs and their owners, and Meg walks with me, fully focussed on the stick in my hand, ignoring the dog/horse/deer that is passing. However, other owners clearly never attended such good puppy classes (or the dogs are less easy to train—though that seems unlikely in Meg’s case!) Fairly frequently, another dog will run up to Meg and some of them are aggressive. I have grown fearful of small dogs (it always seems to be the little dogs that snarl and show their teeth) and especially Spaniels. We have had some very bad interactions with Spaniels. Just before Christmas, we were walking through the woods which were beautiful with morning mist, and a black Spaniel came towards us. It looked young, and was darting through the trees, and I wondered, as we approached, whether she would play with Meg. I was throwing sticks, Meg was leaping over fallen trunks and into craters to retrieve them. Suddenly, without warning, the black Spaniel changed direction and chased after Meg. At first I thought it was joining in our stick-chasing game, but no, it trapped Meg next to a bush, growled and snarled and showed its teeth. The owner yelled at it, but there was no response. I called Meg, who managed to get past the Spaniel and run to me, and we began to walk away. At first the Spaniel followed, and I wondered whether I would be bitten (and to be honest, I measured the distance I would need to give it a big kick if it started to leap at me) but then it stopped, and returned to its yelling owner. I have no idea whether this was an unusual occurrence for this particular dog, but I am suspicious that some owners ought to put their dog on a lead if they are near other dogs but they choose not to. Which is a shame for everyone.

Meg in the car, with the sticks she keeps for emergencies!

Thanks for reading. I hope your Christmas was good, and exciting but not hyper!
Have a good week. Take care.
Love, Anne x

Meg’s Diary: Up to 11 Months

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15/7/24

I feel that Meg has changed. She is still challenging, but we have come to an understanding, and I feel she is slightly calmer. Very slightly. I am also trying to have her out of her crate for longer. This has mixed results. In the evening, we now watch telly in the lounge, while Meg chews a bone in the doorway. She knows she must not enter the room (or she gets sprayed with water!) and she is happy, watching us, and chewing her bone. During the day, if left for more than a minute, she will find her own entertainment. Today she was left for 5 minutes (washroom visit) and she found a newspaper and ripped it to shreds. That didn’t matter, but if it had been one of my plants, or a cushion, it would have been very annoying. We are getting to where I hope to be, but slowly.

Walking is easier because I don’t attempt to walk near roads. We go to the woods, and she stays near me, and comes when called (even if I do have to shout ‘Stick!’) so putting her back on the lead is reliably do-able. She will do anything for a stick.


10/8/24,

Meg is definitely calmer than she was. Not ‘calm’ but calmer than the completely hyper monster that she was a few months ago. I am also better at knowing what she can cope with.

In July, I went away for a week, and a son and his partner lived in the house with Meg. When I got home, I was greeted with a happy, calm dog. They had basically played with her for most of every day, and let her run free in the garden, and she had learnt to sleep on the kitchen floor when she was tired. The garden was a mess, with several pots shredded, but it seemed a good tactic. It was lovely to return home to a happy dog. I was however, disappointed by her reaction when she first saw me. There are some people who she is super-excited to see, so excited that she pees on the floor and does laps of the garden. Me, on the other hand, she wagged her tail for, and then went back to shredding the large log she had carried onto the lawn. She was sort-of pleased to see me, but definitely not super-excited. I am in charge of the home, so maybe that makes me more of an annoyance in her eyes than someone to have fun with–because if I wasn’t here, she would probably be in charge. I don’t know. It’s so different to Kia, who was part of me and would have died for me—whereas I have a sneaky suspicion that Meg might be secretly pleased if I disappeared because then she could do whatever she wanted.

On 31st July, we went to meet someone at the airport. I brought Meg, thinking it would be excellent training to walk through a crowded airport. It didn’t quite go to plan, because although she walked into the lift happily, they were broken, so we had to use the stairs. When we entered the stairwell, Meg froze. Four paws on the ground, not going anywhere. We didn’t have time to teach her how to use stairs, so Husband went to the arrivals hall, and I walked round the car park with Meg. It was still good training, walking past lots of people with luggage and moving cars, and going in and out of the stairwell. But not as good as I had hoped. We will work on stairs, and spooky stairwells.

Meg now walks through the woods on the lead very nicely, and we go every morning. When she’s off the lead, she happily greets other dogs, but she tends to chase them, and other owners get anxious, so I mainly keep her on the lead. We have met deer a few times when she was free, and I grabbed a stick, and led her away, and she absolutely prefers a stick to chasing a deer. I have no idea why. I’m worried that with so many deer, there are probably ticks, so I’m careful about keeping her flea/tick drops up to date, and I use insect repellent. (Ticks carry Lyme disease, and that can be dangerous for people.)

Every evening, Meg chews her bone in the hall while we relax in the lounge. She is very good, knows the routine, and does not attempt to enter the room (well, not very far). This is nice, I like having her around.

I started tempting her up and down the stairs with her ball. She’s hesitant, but getting used to using stairs in the house. Mostly, she will do anything for a ball. I still try to hand-feed her most of her food, and practise calling her, and teaching her to walk to heel. It’s all great unless there’s a distraction, and then she is still terrible. I can get her to sit near the main road and concentrate on a treat rather than the cars, but not yet in our lane. She still hares up and down the garden fence if a car goes up the farm lane.

Next week we go to Rome, and for the first time, Meg will go into kennels. I think she’ll enjoy it, she is very sociable. I am so looking forward to the break.

11 Months


12/8/24

I have started to keep Meg on the lead for longer, because I am more relaxed and it makes the walk more enjoyable. She has lots of time to run free in the garden, and walks are more for mental stimulation. Today, in the brief time that she was free, we met 3 large black Labradors. I think they were all males. Meg bounced up to the first one—and I didn’t attempt to stop her because they were a similar size to her, so wouldn’t be bounced, and they were Labradors so must be friendly. Except they weren’t (friendly—that is, they were Labradors!) The first one raised his hackles, obviously not keen to be greeted by an impertinent young female. The other two surrounded her, and before I knew it, Meg was lying on the floor while the Labrador owner shouted at her dogs. Meg managed to get up, and started to run, so I called her, and she came near enough to grab. (Not, of course, running directly to me, but sort of in my general direction, which is usually the best I can hope for.) At no point had Meg yelped, and in my experience, dogs yelp at the smallest discomfort, so I’m pretty sure the encounter was about dominating her rather than attacking her. The owner was extremely apologetic, but I wasn’t sure it was necessarily a bad experience for Meg. It might be good for her to learn that racing up to a big dog is not always a good idea. And as I say, there didn’t seem to be any viciousness to it, the Labradors were just making sure she knew her place in the pack—which was at the bottom!

We continued our walk on the lead. It’s really hot, so the whole world was walking their dogs early, and we met lots of people. When they saw Meg on the lead, most people called their dogs, thinking she was unfriendly, so I started to call to them, explaining she was friendly but super-bouncy. They then relaxed, and I worked on training Meg to sit while the other dog approached her, and I had little chats with the owners and it was all very sociable. Meg was friendly to all the dogs that passed us, so the earlier encounter with the Labradors had obviously not affected her badly.

It’s hard to keep Meg cool in this weather, and she pants continually. I can’t wet her, because she hates the hose, but I have wet her bedding, so she can lie on cool damp towels. Not that she does of course, she picks them up and runs round the kitchen with cool damp towels! But I tried.

She is getting better at stairs already. Today I put her ball on increasingly higher steps, and she walked right to the top of the flight without a problem. Coming down is more precarious, because she tries to leap the last few steps—which would be dangerous if she was on the lead—so I will keep teaching her to go slowly up and down. (And is quite dangerous if anyone stands near, as they might get a flying German Shepherd land on their head.) She’s fun to teach, because she learns so quickly. Just as long as she doesn’t kill someone by mistake…

Thanks for reading. Have a safe week.
Love, Anne x

Walking calmly next to the trolley
Waiting outside the supermarket
Focussed on a stick!
Action shot

Meg’s Diary: Travels with a Mad Dog

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21/6/2024
Given the success of our beach trip yesterday, we decided to repeat it. There’s a free car park near the beach, and we were lucky enough to find a space amongst all the families and dog walkers. There were lots of both. There is then a short walk to the beach, which hardly needs a lead, unless you own a mad dog like Meg.

The first part of the beach has lots of people. Families playing, children making sandcastles, the odd daring swimmer. This seems to continue along the whole of the sandy beach. But if you walk to the right, before long the sand gives way to black rocks and giant pebbles, and not many people venture that way, which makes it much better with Meg.

After reaching the beach, I found a stick (magic wand that keeps her focussed) and we strode over the sand, away from other people. Meg was very good, and we managed to avoid bouncing anyone or chasing balls belonging to other dogs. We made it to a relatively secluded area—which is good—but I must admit, it is exhausting. It takes a lot of mental energy, constantly looking ahead for potential dangers/distractions, guiding her across the beach, keeping her free but not too far away. I could have her on the lead, but she would pull my arm off, so that would be worse.

We had a happy time once we reached the rocks. There were pools of water, and I’m guessing some were fresh water because Meg drank from them (she tested all the water to see if it was salty, but only drank from a few pools). Plus, some pools had tadpoles, and I am pretty sure that no frog/toad can cope with salty water. It was an unusual thing to find on the beach, and a later online search suggested they might be lump fish, but I am pretty positive they were tadpoles (I collected buckets of the things when I was a child). The rocks are black, often covered with white lichen, and they were nice to walk across, mostly being large and flat, rough where the sea had worn their porous surface. There were occasional streams, but we were wearing wellies, so that was easy.

We walked for about a mile, then turned and retraced our steps. Meg was very happy, collecting sticks of driftwood and jumping over the rocks. She managed to pass some pretty big distractions—a Labrador chasing a frisbee, a small yappy dog being introduced to paddling, children playing a ball game. And then, just before we reached the entrance to the car park, it all went horribly wrong. There were two small black dogs, playing a game of chase, and a family group sitting near the dunes, and a man running towards the sea, and suddenly it was all too much for Meg, and she stopped concentrating on me and the stick, and charged across the beach towards the little dogs. I called her. She was deaf. I tried running away, madly waving the stick. She did not care in the slightest. The whole beach stopped and stared in disapproval at the inept woman and her out-of-control dog. I didn’t blame them. Terrible behaviour.

Seconds before it all went wrong!

Meg ran in circles for a while, and the owner of the two small dogs picked them up, and other people called their (obedient) children and dogs to them, and I felt a complete failure. Meg however, was having a great time, dashing between different families, splashing through water, leaping to try and catch other people’s balls, or dogs, or children. Her whole body was delighted, she was having such fun! We caught her eventually, and dragged her off to the car. She has a look, which I cannot describe, but I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t care a jot and will challenge anything I say.

We arrived at the car, opened the boot, and directed her to jump into it. She just stared through me. Husband suggested lifting her in, but I felt it was important to win this one, so we just stood there, staring at each other, offering a treat if she jumped in but not moving a muscle. We might have stood there all day. It was a lot like facing off a teenage boy. Eventually she jumped in, and received the treat, and we shut the door. I cling on to the hope that it will all get easier, and the effort will result in a pet I can love. But it’s a long journey.

Hope you manage to cope with whatever happens in your world this week (and hopefully all your problems are as minor as a naughty dog). Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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Meg’s Diary: Meg is Annoying in Scotland continued…

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15/6/2024
I went for a run along the lane, and I took Meg as there is rarely any traffic. It was okay—quite hard work because she always pulls slightly harder than is comfortable, even when she’s wearing the lead-of-shame (without it, she is uncontrollable). But at least it gave her something interesting to do.

The weather was good—high clouds and pale blue sky with a watery sun. The forecast was dry for the morning, so we drove to Stonehaven and parked in the town car park (which is free, but very full, so we were lucky to find a space). It’s a pretty town, with a long quay and stone houses, but it’s also very attractive to tourists so it’s busy. We parked next to an Italian family.

We followed signs and walked towards Dunnottar Castle. Meg was annoying. Sometimes (often) she’s very good in busy places, as there’s so much to distract her that she doesn’t pull. Not today. Every car or dog we passed, she lurched towards it, and even on the empty stretches she was pulling fairly hard. I know that I should stop and not move, when she pulls, but then we would never get anywhere—it’s not like it teaches her not to pull. Maybe when she’s older.

We climbed the steep hill behind the town, and followed the footpath along the top of the cliffs. The weather was good—cold but sunny—and we soon rounded a corner and could see the castle, perched on the rock. Unfortunately, Meg was too annoying, and the path was too busy for me to let her run free, so it was all rather stressful. But it was pretty.

In the afternoon we drove to Inverbervie beach. It was busy again, and the beach was shingle, so not great for walking along. Meg seemed happy and collected bits of driftwood, but I was too tired to enjoy it. After a short walk, we went up to the High Street and I waited outside Co op while Husband stocked up on bread and juice. Meg was awful. Barking and leaping at traffic. It’s weird—some days she is just annoying, all day long.

We ate at The Anchor in Johnshaven again. They have such a brilliant chef, the food is delicious. I had the lobster, and Husband splashed out on a fish platter (because when you find someone who knows how to cook fish, in a fishing village, you eat fresh fish). All delicious. Meg was at home, in her crate. That’s one good thing with her—I keep her routine fairly stable (same food, same timetable, bed with a Dentistix) and in return, I can put her crate in a different place every night if I want and she is happy to stay in it. I know she’ll be fine—no worried barking, no nerves, no signs of anxiety at all. She’s good at that.

20/6/2024
We drove from Scotland to Chatton, via Edinburgh. I was very keen to see something of the city, to wander through the streets, daydream in the parks, see a few sights. It was not to be. Driving and parking in the centre of any city is stressful, and it wasn’t as easy to find a space this time. Meg was very good in the car, and lay silently in her crate. But we were stressed. Then when we eventually parked, and took Meg out, she was a pain. Unlike last visit, she was super-hyper, lurching at traffic, wanting to interfere with other dogs (there were a surprising number of dogs in the city centre). On the plus side, she toileted when I took her to grass and told her to, and she wasn’t frightened of anything, not even a fire-engine that zoomed past with sirens blasting and lights flashing. But she did try to chase it.

We took her into a cafe next to the Christian bookshop on The Mount. I’m not sure if the bookshop run the cafe, but they might—they were very welcoming and there were signs saying that non-customers could use their toilets, but please keep them clean (I liked that). We sat at a group of sofas in the corner, and tried to pretend that Meg was well-behaved. She didn’t bark, but she was antsy. In the end we took it turns to eat, one of use keeping Meg close and stroking her, while the other one was free to eat. It was okay, but I’ve had more pleasant lunches in cafes. The food itself was nice, and they were very welcoming to dogs and even brought over a bowl of water (which we declined, because her favourite trick is to throw the water everywhere).

We walked up to the castle, and through crowds of people, and I tried to keep her away from all the men wearing kilts (because she likes to lick bare legs, and I wasn’t sure this would be appreciated). There was a man playing bagpipes, and we stood and listened, and Meg didn’t join in, but I could tell she was thinking about it. (At home, she howls when she hears bagpipes!) Then we had an argument about crossing the road, and whether I could ‘nip across’ when I’m with the dog, and how it was all proving rather stressful and not at all relaxing and fun, so we abandoned Edinburgh and drove to the next cottage. I will visit again one day, without the dog, and do the whole meandering thing that I wanted to do this time. One day.

The drive to Chatton was smooth, and we arrived at The Old Stables House, which is beautiful. The village is very sweet—not unlike villages in the Cotswolds—and the cottage (which was once old stables) was right next to The Percy’s Arms. The house is lovely, and very practical for the dog. The back garden is completely enclosed and safe, inside there are hardwood and tiled floors, which I covered with various towels to avoid muddy footprints. Most importantly, there is a washing machine and tumble dryer, so I could remove the dog-stink from all our clothes.

We took Meg for a walk, following a footpath across fields. There are lots of livestock, so she couldn’t run free. She was also very bad next to the road, even though the traffic is fairly slow in the village, so I was cross with her. We had planned to take her to the pub when we ate there, and had booked a table in the dog-friendly part, but I decided I needed a break, so she stayed in her crate in the house.

Today, we took Meg to Bamburgh Castle beach. The castle is huge, and looms over the beach looking like something from a fairy story. There were several people on the beach (we have been rather spoilt, and are used to empty beaches now) but Meg was good, and I could distract her with a stick, and guide her away from other people and dogs. We had a nice walk, over yellow sand and black rocks, and the sun shone on us, and the waves lapped next to us, and it was lovely. Meg was happy. I like a happy dog. We even managed to pose her, on a rock, with the castle in the background.

We have also managed to persuade her to jump into her car crate. She stopped doing this for a while, just staring at us when we told her to get up. (How does a dog manage to look insolent?) We have resorted to lumps of dried cod and lots of praise, and now she has agreed to do it again. (Tbh, sometimes I make my voice ultra happy and praise-like while swearing at her. She only understands the tone.) I don’t much enjoy the ‘teenage’ stage of a dog’s life.

I hope you find life easy this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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