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Meg in Scotland

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We grabbed a sandwich next to New College, Edinburgh University, and then drove north, to a cottage near Fordoun. It’s basically in the middle of countryside. Disappointingly, the ‘fully fenced’ garden was a lie. There were a few small plants indicating the boundary of the garden, but no fence at all. Which means I cannot let Meg outside unless she’s on the lead, especially as there are lambs in the field next to the house. We had a stake and a line we can attach her to, but as she has a tendency to dig when bored, I dare not leave her outside for long. Shame. (We often use Airbnb, this one was disappointing–usually they’re great! The owner had not exactly lied, but had certainly been less than honest.)

The cottage is tiny. It may have been a double garage in a previous existence, with a conservatory added. The owner seems to have gone to the local garden centre and bought all sorts of statues and pictures and cute house decorations, but then not known where to put them. There are random things everywhere, and it just looks crowded. It is also well-equipped, but again, everything crammed onto every worksurface and stuffed into every cupboard, so there is nowhere to put our own things. It is a little odd, and not very comfortable. But it’s warm, and there are beautiful views from the window, so it’ll be okay. We’re here for 6 days.

We’re trying to teach Meg that she is only allowed in the kitchen area, and not down the step into the sitting area. It’s stressful. She clearly understands, and clearly disagrees, so has started a game of throwing things into the banned area and then barking at them until we return them—and then throwing them down again. I am not enjoying this game. It’s hard to ignore her high-pitched yap, but we’re trying.

14/6/2024
We started the day with a trip to a supermarket in Laurencekirk. Husband stayed outside with Meg, and I nipped in to do the shopping. We didn’t need much, but it still took ages—always a hassle shopping in an unfamiliar supermarket. Meg was very good, and was sitting outside when I emerged, looking very professional (Meg, not me—I probably looked rather stressed!)

We stayed round the cottage for the morning. Meg alternated between the kitchen (trying to stop her walking down the steps to the sitting area) and her cage (when I needed a break) and the garden, where she is fastened to the long line. She’s good in the garden, and watches the birds. There’s a nest somewhere, and house martins swoop near her, and she sits, bolt upright, watching them. But I don’t leave her too long— a bored Meg is a bad Meg.

After lunch we drove to St. Cyrus beach. The car park was down the cliff, and we had to drive along a very narrow, very steep lane, with no passing places and lots of bends. Luckily we didn’t meet anyone. The car park is part of the nature reserve, and it was fairly full even on a rainy Friday afternoon.

We followed the signs, staying on the footpaths and not trespassing on all the nesting birds (lots of warning signs) over a narrow wooden bridge, up a sand dune, and then—wow! A beach, long and wide, and completely deserted. Does no one in the North go to beaches? Maybe the rain puts them off. We loved it. Husband has hurt his back, and the sand was very soft, so he stayed near the dunes, while Meg and I strode across the beach. Our feet sank into the soft sand, leaving deep footprints. It was good exercise. For a while Husband and I alternated calling Meg, and she sped between us, burning off energy as she bounced across the sand. But then she got tired and lost interest, so I called her to me and she stayed close, sniffing the pebbles and dried crabs and bits of bright green seaweed. There were trees that had washed up as driftwood—whole trees, like the skeletons of whales, stark against the dark sky. I wondered where they had come from, and why the had washed up there, all of them, like a prearranged meeting place for drowned trees. It rained on us, and the wind blew against us, and the sea thundered next to us, and it was wonderful.

We put the dog—and quite a lot of the sand—into the boot, and drove back to the cottage. I made tea while Husband checked what time the football started, and Meg snored, very loudly, in her crate.

We ate at The Anchor in Johnshaven. They have the best seafood—lobsters, and fresh haddock, with rhubarb crumble or banana fritters for pudding. (They even have a doggy menu! We (not Meg) shared the soup to start, and tasted each other’s dinners while we ate, and I drank red wine, and it was a lovely end to a rainy day.

Thanks for reading. Have a great day and take care.

Love, Anne x

Meg at Gleneagles

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11/6/2024
We continued our journey north. After packing up the Northumberland cottage, we drove back to Cresswell for some exercise before our next long drive. This time the beach was full, lots of people and dogs, everyone out for their morning walk. We let Meg run free, but every time she started to run towards another dog, I called her back and waved a stick or kicked a pebble, and she stayed near to us the whole time, ignoring the other dogs. Some dogs ran up to her, and she was friendly, but always followed us as we walked on. She is very sociable for a German Shepherd—let’s hope it continues.

We stopped a couple of times during the journey, and Meg was very good—we were still on the A1, but it was quieter, and the stops were more peaceful. Early afternoon, we arrived at the Gleneagles Hotel, where Husband had a work conference.

The hotel is big, and beautiful, and it allows dogs (and horses, if you want to take your horse on holiday!) We could have taken Meg into our room (with an additional cleaning charge) but we thought it would be easier to book her into the kennels. I am cautious about kennelling a young dog—it doesn’t take many bad experiences to change a character, and I would hate for Meg to be kennelled next to an aggressive dog. However, this was fine. The kennels were more a room in a separate block, with individual locks, and beds and bowls provided. We were responsible for feeding and exercising Meg, and taking her out so she could toilet. She was the only dog inside, so no danger of being threatened by a dog-bully. Outside, were the hotel’s working Labradors, who barked every time we passed, but that was okay. The staff were friendly, and said how beautiful and friendly Meg is (I suspect they say this to all owners). They lock the kennels at 10 pm, so we needed to toilet her before then, and they unlock at 8am, and take her out so that guests can enjoy breakfast before taking over. That is longer than Meg is usually left at night, so I hoped she would be okay. We exercised her, and then went to prepare for dinner.

Dinner at Gleneagles is an event. They have two Michelin stars, and honestly, it is the most delicious dinner I have ever eaten. We sat at large round tables, with candles and flowers all around, and the waiters brought trolley after trolley, offering Champagne, then wine, carving a beef wellington, adding caviar to a cod steak, explaining the taste of various cheeses, preparing crepe suzettes with flavours and flames. I ate and drank far too much, but I only had to walk upstairs, so it was fine. (Husband kindly did the last Meg shift.)

Our room was very luxurious, though was quite a long walk from reception (I don’t think it was one of their better rooms!) It had a desk and two easy chairs, and a huge telly. There was a cabinet offering free tea and coffee, bottles of water, and shortbread biscuits—and a cupboard displaying over-priced snacks that we could buy. The bathroom had double sinks, and a shower, and a huge free-standing claw-footed bath. The loo was in a separate room. There were toiletries, and dressing gowns and slippers, and—most importantly—plenty of plug sockets for phones and computers. Unfortunately, the pillows were very fat, but I had brought my nice flat pillow in the car (because hotels always seem to have very fat pillows).

Our Room
Meg’s Room

12/6/2024
I didn’t sleep much—probably due to too much food and drink. I showered (marvellous shower—the water pressure wasn’t painful, but there was so much water a deluge of it, soaking me instantly). Went down for breakfast. Gleneagles has the best food. There was everything. We were offered fresh orange juice, and coffee, and I ordered buttermilk pancakes with smoked almonds and maple syrup. While waiting, we visited the buffet: displays of fresh fruit, and pastries, yogurts, cereals, every kind of cooked breakfast food, various breads and cakes. I filled a bowl with fresh strawberries (perfectly ripe) and Greek yogurt (perfectly creamy) and waited for my pancakes. Husband, who usually eats everything, restricted himself to sourdough bread with smoked salmon and poached egg, and another slice with bacon and mushrooms (proper mushrooms—hotels often use the nasty tinned variety). The coffee arrived in a silver pot, and we sat in a light conservatory filled with flower arrangements. Such a treat.

Dining Room
Breakfast Room
Posh Washroom

Husband then went off to work, and I returned to the room and was slightly ill (due to unusual food and too many nerves—because even though I can control my outside with lots of prayer and self-control, my insides get stupidly anxious when we travel. I tell you this in case you can relate—we like to hide our imperfections, but everyone has them, even in the near-perfection that is Gleneagles. You might think you are alone with your problems, but you are not.) I then prepared for the next day, and went to check Meg.

Meg seemed fine. I spoke to the kennel staff, who said she had been clean and dry when they arrived, and was pleased to see them. She commented that Meg is very quiet, which pleased me. We try hard not to respond whenever Meg barks, trying to teach her that barking does not result in whatever it is that she wants, training her to be quiet. (So if she wants to go outside, she sits quietly next to the door and looks at me… Occasionally… On a good day… Mostly she bounces at it, bounces at me, bounces at the door again, and then sits and looks at me. Work in progress.)

 I took Meg for a walk around the grounds, avoiding all the golf areas, and then, because I had been told that I could, I took her into the hotel. Meg walked beside me, over thick carpets, past all the guests waiting to check-in. We then walked along corridors lined with little shops selling expensive watches and jewellery and the sort of clothes that other, richer, people wear. The lights were dim, and the air was perfumed, and Meg plodded quietly next to me. I didn’t attempt the stairs, because we haven’t learnt stairs yet and I worried she might leap down them and pull me crashing behind her (which would cause quite a stir amongst the smart guests and the attentive staff!) We had a hiccup when we left, because a man had a Labrador next to the entrance, and Meg has obviously now decided that Labradors should be barked at (because that is what the hunting dogs in the pens outside her kennels do). So we walked quietly through the door, and then had a loop-out when we saw the dog. I calmed her, and managed to get her attention, and we left—not looking quite as professional as I hoped.

The grounds are beautiful. There is a vintage Rolls Royce parked in the driveway, and neat lawns with chairs next to an outside bar. Stone steps link various terraces, and low walls divide the lawns. There are mature trees and lakes with fountains and beds filled with lavender and poppies. In the valley is the golf course, and behind the hotel are tennis courts. An area to one side houses the kennels, and a caged ferret and birds of prey. Beyond the grounds are hills covered in heather and trees.

13/6/2024
We collected Meg from her kennel for the final time. It was noteworthy that she ate a lot last night—up until now she has eaten very little and ignored her chew. I guess she didn’t want to eat until things were familiar and she relaxed a little.

I have been very pleased with her. The kennel staff all commented on how friendly she was. Whenever we walk past the working Labs, they fling themselves at the cage wall and bark. Meg has managed to walk past them, not barking back (mostly) and concentrating on me and where we’re going. She has also been clean/dry for the long hours (10pm-8am) that she was locked inside. We put Meg into the car, and she fell asleep almost immediately.

Thanks for reading. I will tell you what happened next in another blog. Thanks for reading. I hope you have a good week.
Take care.
Love, Anne

anneethompson.com
*****

Meg’s Diary: Trip to Scotland

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10/6/2024
Today was very long, but very satisfying. It started early, with a trip to the vet with cat-with-swollen-eye, then we finished packing the car, shoved Meg into her crate in the boot, and set off. Meg had woken antsy (some days she does—I haven’t discovered why) so she hadn’t eaten anything. But given her car sickness of the past, I decided this might be good.

Meg is always very good in the car. We ignore her—because I don’t want to encourage a ‘conversation’ whereby she barks to let me know she wants to stop. I am pretending that we cannot hear each other, and whether it’s due to that or just because she happens to like travelling, she is always silent and seems happy. However, I didn’t want to risk changing this happy equilibrium, so I requested that we never drove for more than 2 hours without stopping for a brief walk and a drink.

We drove up the M11 to the A1, and on to Northumberland. We stopped briefly at services, and Meg was excellent each time. She especially excelled at one, particularly busy service station, as it allowed dogs into the main concourse (most had signs saying guide dogs only). I therefore decided to walk her through the crowds (good dog training exercise). We walked through the sliding doors, following crowds of people, past various eateries with noise and smells, edging past legs of people waiting in line, past the entrance to the washrooms (more smells, and people) past a casino area, with noisy slot machines and teenaged boys shouting, and out the sliding door of the exit. Meg was brilliant! She walked closely by my side, alert but not jumpy or barking, noticing but not distracted. We walked through the area twice. I was so pleased with her. I also took her to areas of grass where she could toilet, but she was much too interested in all the smells and cars moving, and didn’t toilet once the whole journey. I hoped it wouldn’t be unhealthy (not much more I could do really).

We arrived at a little cottage in Ulgham that we had booked to break the journey. It had a tiny garden which was gravel—Meg likes to toilet on grass, so she still didn’t pee. (I am not usually interested in the toilet habits of my animals, but it is rather a feature of travel with a dog.) I tried walking her in the lane, but the cottage backed onto a railway, right next to the crossing, and there were fast trains from Edinburgh speeding to London every 10 minutes, so even though there was grass, Meg was much too intent on lurching towards trains. (Not so perfect.)

As there was a coast 5 minutes away, we put her back in the car and drove to Cresswell. Parked next to the road and walked through sand dunes to the beach. It was beautiful. The sky was heavy with rain, and no one else was on the beach. Sand stretched in both direction, huge waves billowed towards the beach, the grass on the dunes hissed in the wind. Most importantly, Meg made use of the facilities! Yaay! Back to the cottage.

The cottage was beautiful. It had obviously been recently renovated, and the owners had taken such care, and been very generous with what they provided. There was coffee and tea and biscuits, with fresh milk in the fridge, and bowls of chocolates, plus all the soaps/tissues/linen that we could need. The furniture was comfy, and there were warm throws and fat cushions and careful decorations. It was lovely. The proximity to the railway could have been annoying if Meg had decided to bark every time a train passed—and the trains did wake me in the night—but we sort of got used to them, and as long as they were out of sight, Meg ignored them. She ate and drank, and seemed very calm (well, as calm as she ever is).

We ate at the Widdrington Inn. It was actually quite nice (I was worried because we sat opposite the kitchen door, and I could see several floppy-haired young men preparing the food, which rang all sorts of food hygiene alarm bells!) But other than the sticky table, all seemed clean, and we had a nice meal. We had left Meg in her crate, in the cottage, because it’s never relaxing trying to eat when she is with us, even though we are trying to take her more often.

After dinner we collected Meg and drove back to the beach. This time we found a car park, and the tide was further out, so there was more sand. We still only saw a couple of people, so it was wonderfully relaxing, and we strode along the sand for an hour while Meg danced alongside us, investigating seaweed and rocks and the taste of seawater. The sea was stormy and the sky was huge, and all felt right with the world.

It wasn’t a great night’s sleep, because I woke when the trains whooshed past, and it was lighter than at home, and I was cold. But Meg was quiet all night, and seemed fine in the morning when I let her out of her crate.

Next stop Gleneagles. Husband has a work conference, me and Meg tagging along. I’ll tell you about it next week. Thanks for reading.
Have a great day.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

****

anneethompson.com
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I Nearly Kill Meg

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Today started well. I persuaded Husband to come to Oxted with me, and help me to get Meg to walk through the underpass—the scary tunnel under the station. I have tried it a few times recently, and although she will walk down the ramp, she absolutely refuses to walk a single step into the underpass. This has been annoying, as when she was smaller she did it without a flicker, but she has grown more stubborn/wary with age. I need her to be able to walk through tunnels and enclosed spaces, before I can take her on the train.

We parked in Morrissons, and Meg walked through all the moving cars with no trouble at all. I’m not sure if it’s the speed of the traffic on the main road that triggers her reaction, or if it has become an ingrained response on that road. But in other situations, she seems much better with traffic. She also walks through groups of people, and shopping trolleys, and shop doors without reacting—all good. There was a collie tied up outside (not Leo) and it watched Meg—who stopped—stared—followed me past. Phew! Hopefully that positive encounter will balance the Leo experience. [You might need to refer to last week’s blog to understand this.]

At the underpass, we copied the routine that Sue (puppy trainer) had advised for the tunnel in Devon. Husband went ahead with a treat, stopped on the ramp. We walked to him, took the treat, immediately turned away (Meg understands the ‘Turn!’ command) and returned to the top of the ramp. Gradually Husband got nearer to the entrance, then a step into the underpass, then several feet inside. We kept going (with lots of funny looks from the Saturday morning shoppers!) until Meg was happily walking right through the underpass. We walked back without a flicker, and even ventured along the tunnel to the car park through the massive fire doors, and into the underground car park with all its echoes and smells and shadows. Meg was fine, alert but not resisting. I love when something works. I will practice a few times this week, and hopefully it will become mundane.

When we got home, I decided to have coffee in the garden, to celebrate our success. Huband made hot buttered toast, and I made coffee, and we carried them outside to watch Meg while she played. Meg bounced up to us, almost spilling the coffee. We sent her away and she ripped up a weed from the garden, then ran off to destroy a log on the lawn. We chatted for a few minutes, then started to discuss the cherry trees that Husband is training to grow over an archway. We moved to look at them, Meg came to join in, and started to destroy the lower branches of one of the trees. So annoying. I guess it was our mistake, for drawing her attention to the tree by looking at it when she was there. But sometimes we do make mistakes, and it seems that Meg always makes us regret it. She is too much. What a shame, after such a good morning. I put her in her crate with a chew, and went to clean out the chickens.

8 Months Old

I wanted to attend a seminar at college, and Husband was in London all day. I decided it was slightly longer than I’m comfortable leaving Meg alone, so I took her. I left home earlier than usual and drove to South Norwood. Meg was fine on the journey (she’s always good in the car and notices different things to me—a few times each journey there will be a low growl, or a bark, from the back, and I realise she has spotted a dog that needs sorting out!)

I went to the college office and asked whether I could park in the staff area, as it was shady. It was sunnier than when I left home, and I worried that even with a window open, it might get too hot in the car. They assured me it would be okay to park in a staff area, and directed me to some spaces right outside the lecture room, where there was lots of shade.

I let Meg out of the car, gave her a drink, and took her for a quick walk. We went up South Norwood Hill, where there is constant traffic. Perhaps it’s because the traffic was slow-moving, or because the path was wide, but Meg walked nicely on the lead, not reacting to the traffic at all. A completely different experience to walking in the lane. She lurched when a bus swooshed past, and when we had to wait at the central bollards to cross the road, but other than that, she was pretty perfect. (We do not do pretty perfect very often.)

We arrived at an entrance to Beaulieu Heights—which seemed to be a park so we walked through the gates. There was a path, and a lot of litter, and bushes and mud. We continued along the path and round the corner. I should mention that I was wearing a dark coat and black trousers, and Meg has a black harness. A group of teenagers was smoking on a fallen log, and I heard them whisper ‘police dog’ and they all threw away their cigarettes! I decided not to venture further into the park, so we turned (trying to look official) and returned to the road.

I gave Meg another drink—which she didn’t want, and went in to the seminar. It lasted for 2 hours. When I came out, the sun had moved and the car was now in dappled sunlight. I peered into the boot, and Meg was fast asleep, her chew was untouched, and I worried that even though the window was open, I had killed my dog. Bad moment. I hadn’t, she was fine, but it was surprisingly warm in the car for dappled, late afternoon, sunshine. It was a learning experience—I won’t risk it again on a sunny day. We drove home with the windows down.

I hope your mistakes this week turn out okay. It’s horrible when we realise we have messed up, but we all do. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Determined to fit through the cat flap.
How it feels to walk a GSD puppy.
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Mad Meg Nearly Kills Me

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We had a great day on Tuesday. I drove to East Grinstead (Meg is still refusing to jump into the Mini, which is a real pain, she is very heavy to lift). Parked, and walked 10 minutes along the High Street. Meg lurched towards cars when we were right next to the road, but the High Street has a slightly raised path, a couple of metres from the road, and she ignored the traffic there. We were meeting a friend, and arrived early, so we sat at a table outside in the High Street. There was another dog, who Meg noticed, but she then settled down and was peaceful.

When my friend arrived we went into the cafe (the Mad Dog Cafe—appropriate name!) Meg, for some reason, baulked when we were inside and refused to walk any further. No idea what spooked her. We were next to a table, so sat there. Meg settled on the floor with her chew. She barked, briefly, at a woman carrying a tray, and at a baby shaking a toy. Other than that, she was very well-behaved, and I plan to return.

It was Puppy Classes in the evening. There was a new dog, a 10 month old poodle (a big one) and he barked at everyone. Meg responded initially, but then ignored him. It was fairly crowded this week, with puppies of all sizes, and she did very well, sitting and lying and walking in close proximity to lots of other dogs. Only dug one hole this week, so a success. (The class is in the sand school of a stables and we usually arrive to perfectly flattened sand, and leave to a mass of craters that Meg has dug.)

Yesterday was not so successful. I was feeling tired, so exercised her in the garden. During the afternoon I bent to pick up a stick, Meg dived for it, ran straight through my legs, and knocked me flying. Luckily I didn’t bang my head on a nearby tree, but I sprained my knee and ankle, and got a few bruises. While I lay on the floor, winded, with my glasses next to me, did Meg care? Not a jot! She bounced around with the stick and was in danger of trampling me. So much for the idea that dogs are attune with us and empathise with our emotions. I suspect if I had been knocked out, she might have eaten me! Hobbled back to the house for Nurofen and bandages.

**

My ankles are healing well (tight bandages, rested and raised—usually does the trick). I haven’t risked running yet, but yesterday I took Meg for a walk to the stream. This was such hard work. The main road has been shut for several weeks, due to a collapsed drain, which means there has been very little traffic. It is now open, and lots of cars zoomed past us—Meg lurched at every one. This is very disappointing, I have tried so hard to desensitize her to traffic. I’m guessing we made a mistake when she was little, in allowing her to pull on the lead. It’s now a real problem, and trying to make her walk to heel is futile. The best I could do was make her sit, before each car reached us, and held her on a tight lead, with one hand on her head (not sure if that was for comfort or because I was so angry with her I needed to be pushing her down!) There were many cars, it took a very long time to walk the 100 metres to the field entrance.

Once away from the road, I released Meg, and she ran into the field, hunting for sticks and sniffing smells, and always keeping relatively close as I marched away. There’s something about walking fast that is a great releaser of tension—for both of us I suspect. I’m sure if I couldn’t walk fast I would be taking anti-depressants.

Unfortunately, the happy walk was interrupted as soon as we rounded the first corner. A collie was there, called Leo, with his owner, and he was nasty. (I mean the dog was nasty, the owner was simply incompetent, I assume, as a nasty dog should not be loose where other people walk.) He snapped at Meg, who has never met an unfriendly dog before. He then pounced at her, and she yelped—I don’t know if he bit her or just frightened her. She ran off, back into the first field, and Leo followed. I could see her through the gate, she was watching me, but not daring to pass nasty Leo, who was baring the way. I called her, and Meg started to come, but Leo lurched towards her again. I asked the owner (in my very snotty schoolteacher voice) to ‘Please put your dog on the lead because he’s frightening my dog and she daren’t come back to me.’

Incompetent owner shouted, ineffectually, at Leo, and managed to move him further away (though still didn’t put him on the lead). I was furious. Meg is a German Shepherd dog, and they are known for being unfriendly towards other dogs. Meg, however, has a very sweet nature, and will happily ignore most dogs. It only takes one encounter with an aggressive dog to spoil this. I’m really hoping that Leo-the-nasty-collie will not cause Meg to be defensive whenever she sees another dog.

We marched off, round the field, releasing our tension. By the time we returned to the road, with all the whizzing traffic, I had recovered enough to cope with mad Meg trying to catch every car that passed (every single car). Arrived home exhausted.

Hope you have more success with the difficult things in your life–hopefully we will get there eventually. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading. anneethompson.com *****

More Meg

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I have started to take Meg with me wherever I go (that allows dogs). We have walked round the market (stressful) the garden centre (surprisingly good) and the Four Elms shop (excellent behaviour once through the scary sliding doors!) I also take her, when appropriate, when I go out for coffee—I carry a chew and an old towel for her to lie on (not that she does lie on the towel, but it shows willing). She has been to Mum’s a couple of times—the first time was a nightmare and I spent the entire time stopping her eating the carpet/rug/draught-excluder/flower arrangement. The second time was better, and we had a nice chat (me and Mum, not me and Meg) while she (Meg, not Mum) chewed her chew. She does have the snake draught-excluder on her hit list though, and looks for it whenever we visit.

Always fully alert and ready to bounce.

Today we took her for coffee in The Garden Coffee Shop (Four Elms). We walked in, and Meg jumped up to look out of the window, put her paws on a seat, tried to join other customers at their table. Not too professional. We got her into a corner, and she settled down with her chew. Every time new customers entered, she stood up and barked at them (not sure why, no one else had a dog). Then gradually she relaxed, and we had some time to actually drink coffee and chat. After about 30 minutes she grew restless again, so we paid and left. I’m hoping that over time, this will be relaxing for all of us. At the moment, it’s a work in progress.

While the main road near the house is closed (and there is less traffic passing) I am walking Meg to the nearby stream each day. She is still super reactive if a car passes, but we only have a short stretch next to the road, and once in the field she is fine. I have no idea what will happen when she sees a deer, but I don’t think she can run to any roads even if she chases it. The good thing about the walk is that she has to wait at the gate when we leave, so it’s easy to put her back on the lead. She has become very naughty at being caught when it’s time to go home, so I can only take her to places with a barrier that stops her.

7 Months
I talked to ‘dog-trainer-Sue’ about taking Meg on a train. She advised me not to take her to a station initially, as it would just scare her, and to practice things like going through sliding doors, and walking through the underpass tunnel in Oxted. We practice the sliding doors at the garden centre, and Meg is completely fine with them now. But trying to go through the underpass had the same reaction as the tunnel in Instow—full brakes, and not persuadable! We have walked up and down the ramp a few times, but I’ll need Husband to help me get her through the underpass

We went to Cambridge, and took Meg. I took her on a long walk first, so she didn’t need physical exercise. We shoved her into her crate in the boot, and drove (2 hours) to Cambridge. I then walked her for 10 minutes, just to loosen up her joints, and offered her a drink (which she didn’t want). Then back into the crate while we looked around a prospective house to buy, and then drove home. She was great, and I think she just slept or chewed her chew. (I keep the chew for ‘special’ occasions, like when we’re out and I need her to be confined.) Though she did stand up and bark on the QE2 bridge! I don’t think she likes heights. When we got home it was evening, and I worried she might be full of energy, but she seemed tired, and was happy to go to bed. I guess she must have been alert and watching during the afternoon.

Today we took her to the pub. It’s a 45 minute walk, which is slightly long, but I’m hoping it won’t hurt occasionally. She was terrible whenever a car passed us, but we can cope with terrible now. In the pub she settled under the table with her chew, and was completely engrossed unless someone approached the table—when she barked at them. I think she was worried they might steal her chew. It wasn’t as relaxing as when we leave her at home, but I’m hoping that things like this will become routine. It’s easier to occupy Meg if she joins me for my activities rather than having to do things exclusively for her. After a quick lunch, we walked back home. I was tired, she was still bouncing. Such is life.

Thanks for reading. I hope you have things sorted this week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Without a doubt, we would fail this exam.

****
anneethompson.com

Instow with Meg

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Thursday 4th April

After a quick burst in the garden, I put Meg back into her crate and we went for a run. We’re very near an entrance to the disused railway line, so we joined all the other joggers, bikers, and dog-walkers, and ran away from town, level with the coast. It’s a lovely place to run. While Husband showered, I decided to cool down by walking in the opposite direction with Meg. I kept her on the ‘lead of shame’* (the slip-lead with a nose noose, which is loose when she walks beside me but turns her head if she tries to pull, giving me complete control. She hates it, but it keeps us both safe). I tried jogging with her, and it was fine, so I might take her with us tomorrow.

All went well until we came to a short tunnel. Meg had walked under a couple of bridges, but she absolutely refused to walk through the tunnel. She put on the brakes about 10 feet from the entrance, and refused to move. I tried to reassure her, stroked her, tried walking away and then approaching it again—no luck. A family walked past, and I asked if their dog went through the tunnel. They assured me it did, and suggested we walk with them. I tagged along behind them—same result. We were not going through the tunnel. I decided to come back another time, with Husband, and see whether if I go in first, she will follow me.

Another walker stopped to ask whether Meg is a Malinois. This seems to happen a lot. She’s not as tall as a Malinois, but while she’s going through her leggy stage she does look similar. The man was walking his own dog, and asked if he could give Meg a treat. She sat very politely while he fed her, but his own poor dog was most unhappy!

We decided to attempt a cafe with Meg. John’s Cafe often has dogs, and they have their own entrance, away from the grocery part of the shop. Husband secured a table and then let us in. I had a large chew with me, and hoped she would settle under the table and gnaw the chew while we had breakfast. Meg was wearing the lead of shame, so walking through the café was fine, and I put her in the corner. She was very antsy, trying to see what was happening in the café, so I switched places (not the seat—I remained on the seat and she remained on the floor! But I sat in the corner, and she sat under the table where she could see everything). After a few minutes she settled, and gnawed the chew while watching as other customers came and went. Other than replying when another dog barked, she was very good. Another first.

I messaged Sue, who leads the puppy class, to ask for advice re. the tunnel. She said not to attempt to call Meg through off the lead, as she might freak and run away. Nor should I force her through, as it would just make the fear permanent. Instead, I should make it into a game, approaching the tunnel with a treat, then turning and moving away from it, repeating until we were in the tunnel. We did this—Husband stood near the entrance with a treat, we ran up to ‘find Husband’, took the treat then turned and retreated. Gradually Husband stood nearer and nearer the tunnel, until he was inside, then moved further back. We managed to enter the tunnel, with Meg on the lead but moving on her own volition. Then we walked the rest of the way, to the other side. On the return trip, she hesitated at the entrance, we showed her a treat, and she walked through. Another success.

Success!


Friday

We tried taking Meg on the run this morning. It was definitely more effort, and we had to stop every time a bike or another dog was in range. But I’m hoping that in the future this will be a thing, and part of her daily exercise can naturally overlap with mine.

After a shower, we went to John’s Cafe again for brunch. They seem to only serve very large portions of food, so it’s not possible to have a single croissant and coffee. I brought home the extra croissant. It’s a shame, because our country seems to be getting gradually fatter/less healthy, which is bad for all of us. (And it’s not easy to limit what we eat when we have delicious food put in front of us—better to be only served a sensible portion, in my view.) Meg was mostly good, and lay under the table with a chew. She did find it necessary to bark when other dogs arrived, which was annoying. However, she coped with being in a cafe, with lots of people arriving and leaving, and young children swinging their legs and making a noise—so mostly I was pleased with her.

Walking along the street is still a challenge, as she reacts to every car that passes us. I can easily restrain her with the lead of shame, but it will be good when she stops reacting. There was a fun moment when I stopped to look at the beach, and she jumped up to see over the wall too. Mostly, she is a nice dog. David has re-named her ‘Nutmeg’. I am hoping this is because she is dark brown.

Thanks for reading. Have a lovely week, and take care.
Love, Anne x

Thanks for reading.
anneethompson.com
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The lead of shame is a lead recommended by my puppy class teacher. It’s made by Gencon, and available from Amazon. The nose loop stops her pulling hard, so even though she is stronger than me, I can safely walk her next to roads. (As naughty Meg has learnt how to wriggle out of it when it’s loose, I also attach another lead to her harness, just in case.)

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Gencon-Headcollar-Lead-Black-Handed/dp/B00T6IEAZ8/ref=sr_1_5?crid=32MM1PVGPBZAM&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.6TXmzMwiAG3dLjefzyoPjEiKKgio1kPf5yps26825oHeAOzOh0GGNXbXdkxNlYngJGpYQTXQZcYk-H3nhvlx5edT6-7z2LSJs-UuAs_qO711HcxdC5h3VTSwUq0rNluEEZDlLOU-ud9Yi2pXN_j87fm2UkrrBCUIHa6OjUpAXtFnKsN4WHNt-bz8q6rSmh5e7CwU4s8ijTL2pXE61aT94HneAgOTlWLeB34nqeaN-Ce81xVYUEEX3Il8fTbI_ykStQwk53NgXsJyDAVOBIA2SqEL7hJQ7R1bDB3yuLa9zDk.V3ednoE5IXBi5OK7tN_E30_mbEBOG8VCmJUuywZMfEQ&dib_tag=se&keywords=gencon+figure+of+8+dog+lead+anti+pull&qid=1713186052&sprefix=gencon%2Caps%2C81&sr=8-5

Meg’s Diary continued…

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20/2/2024
Today was a complete nightmare with Meg. Whatever I tried to do, she tried to disrupt. She kept jumping at me, pushing through doors ahead of me, chewed bits of furniture and barked at the chickens whenever I took her in the garden. To make it worse, it’s still rainy, so every time we went outside, we brought lots of wet mud back inside with us. There is a limit to how many times I can wipe the floor.

I did attempt to do some lead-training. Several times in fact. Each time, Meg tried to bite the lead as I put it on, then kept biting it while I tried to walk. If we went outside, she lurched towards everything. Standing still does not work (I have been advised that whenever she pulls, I should simply remain completely still, until she notices and stops). Meg is constantly interested in absolutely everything.

So, we manage to walk 2 steps together, she then lurches towards the gate because she heard a car in the lane. I stand still. Meg continues to pull towards the gate for several minutes, then notices I am not moving. Does she return to me, ready to walk obediently by my side? Like heck she does! No, she then decides a leaf is the next great excitement in the world, so lurches towards that instead. Then she spies a twig on the ground, lurches for it and grabs it before I can stop her. Small interval while I try to remove the twig she is hurriedly chewing and swallowing. I try to make her sit, she spins in circles, spots a stone, heaves us both towards it. I give up, and none too gently return her to her crate in the kitchen. An hour later, when the urge to throttle her has subsided, we try again. Re-read from the start of the paragraph. This lasted all day.

In the evening we were scheduled to go to puppy classes (the nice friendly one in the horse barn). I was so frazzled, so near tears, I messaged to say I didn’t have enough patience to attend and be dragged around the barn by my dog. I received lots of nice messages in reply, and the excellent advice from the teacher to have a glass of wine. This helped.

After days like this, I feel complete despair, and wonder if I will ever be able to walk with Meg, and whether she would be happier in a different home. I hate failing, and I like to think that I am rather gifted with animals. But Meg defeats me, and I am aware that lots of things I have done has made her behaviour worse. I think that expecting a working GSD to be a pet was a mistake, and if I could go back in time, I would choose a regular GSD. But I didn’t, so now I must decide what to do. What is best for all of us?

If nothing else, Meg is good for my prayer life. Praying is pretty much all I can do sometimes, because she seems determined to not be trained. I am aware that I need to keep all this in proportion too—no one has died, no one has been diagnosed with cancer or lost their job or home. It’s just a puppy, being difficult.

21/2/2024

Today it was like living with a different puppy. I will write it down quickly, before she turns back into a demon! From when I first let her out of the cage, Meg was lovely. She came for a snuggle (didn’t jump up) and then followed me round the kitchen while I made coffee.

When I was dressed, I drove her back down to the park. Although the police-dog-trainer said I was making her worse by doing this, I found her behaviour was better, and she was definitely less sensitive to cars, so I decided to ignore him (mostly). I did choose a seat further from the road, just in case the proximity was too confrontational, and I did fasten her lead to the seat because she is now too strong for me if she decides to take off. But we sat there, in the pouring rain, and I fed her breakfast to her. She sat, looking at me, while she was fed, and cars whizzed past a few hundred yards away, and people walked past us, and she ignored them all. Mostly. (We nearly had one nasty incident with a woman in a smart white coat who wanted to stroke her, but I managed to warn about bouncing muddy paws in time.) It was very wet, and Meg was more bothered by the rain than eating breakfast, so we walked back to the car, through the car park, which involved avoiding a few people and not chasing a couple of cars, and it was okay. Every time Meg pulled, I either stopped, or walked in a different direction, and she sort of went along with it. (This is the level of discipline I manage to achieve.)

I then drove to an area of common, where there are several miles of woodland. I used to walk Kia here, and I have avoided it because the car park is near a busy road, but I decided to risk it, planning to put her straight back in the car if she started to lurch towards cars. It was fine. The road is far enough away, so a few squeaks on a toy kept her attention with me, and we walked into the woods. The woods are riddled with footpaths, and it’s very easy to get lost (I once walked for two hours longer than planned after getting lost with a friend and her dog). I was careful to stay on the main footpaths, and only to turn left. I still managed to almost lose my way, but realised in time and we arrived back at the car after about 40 minutes. I kept Meg on a long lead, stopping if she pulled hard. Apart from pulling towards other dogs a couple of times, she was great, and we had a lovely walk. Returned home covered in mud.

Trying to smile whilst struggling with crazy puppy…

Later, taking a break from work, I gave her a ball while I had a cup of tea. I sat at the table because I couldn’t face her leaping on me in a low chair, and she snuggled up against my legs. I became aware she was trying to put the ball on my knee, so I extended a hand below the table and a rather spitty damp ball was shoved into it. I rolled it across the kitchen floor, she leapt after it, and brought it back. What a sweet puppy! In another break, I tried upturning two dog bowls, and hiding food under one. I made Meg sit, then shuffled the bowls and asked her to choose one. She sniffed both, leapt on the one with food and chased it round trying to tip it over. I then halved the amount of food, and tried again. She is able to find the smallest crumb of food under a bowl. Then (after maybe 5 times) she started to leap on me, so we ended the game and I went back to work.

I will let you know how training Meg progresses. It’s certainly not boring! I hope you have stamina for the things you’re struggling with in life. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

A Normal Week

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Hello, and how are you? Have you had a good week? Mine was very mixed–which I guess is normal (and as I get older, I am aware that ‘normal’ is very precious!)

My main emphasis has been my M.A. dissertation, which is so nearly finished and ready to submit, but not quite. I have a feeling the ‘not quite‘ stage might last a very long time. I am currently proofreading, and checking things like spellings and references. Every time I discuss the work of another scholar, I have to write a footnote, so my claims can be checked. The first footnote has to have their name, and all the information of the book/paper/article, plus the page number. Subsequent footnotes can just have the author’s name and the page number. My problem is that over the months, I have edited my work and various citations have moved around my document, so the first footnote (with all the picky details) is now near the end, and a later footnote (with no details) is near the beginning. I therefore need to check that the relevant information is attached to the correct place, and this takes much longer than you would think. However, despite interruptions from the puppy and Husband and life, I feel as if I am almost there. Hopefully it will be submitted this week. I will then have completed my course, which seems to have whizzed past in a flash. I would love to continue, and maybe study for a PhD, but we’ll have to see if anyone will take me on (I am pretty old now).

The week has also been dominated by medical appointments–both taking my mum for checks, and sorting my own. Medical appointments are always a hassle, and in my experience they are often cancelled at the last minute–especially MRIs for some strange reason. I was supposed to be having my routine MRI to check the brain tumour hasn’t grown back (no reason to assume it has, but they like to check regularly, just in case). But then, after I had worked out train times and arranged for Husband to look after the animals, it was cancelled. Apparently the machine has broken. This has happened in the past (last time I was actually on the train when they called to cancel). Are MRI machines particularly fragile? Do they break often? (Or, slightly cynical view, do they bump non-urgent cases to make space for urgent ones and prefer to give an excuse that cannot be argued with? I would prefer they were honest if this is the case–I would happily forgo my session in the crash-rattle-tube if someone needs it more.) I also had a blood test cancelled, which was slightly stressful as I truly hate having blood tests, and I was actually on the way when they called to say they couldn’t find the paperwork so not to come until next week. These things happen.

Some fun news is the Goose is definitely female, and has started to lay eggs. She made a pretty pathetic nest by pulling a few sticks into a heap, and laid an egg on top. This has improved over the week, and she has now stolen all the hay from the chicken’s box and made quite a decent nest. I don’t have a gander, so the eggs will be infertile, but she seems happy enough. I started to take the eggs as she laid them, but then one day I lost her. When I searched the garden, I found a new, not very professional, nest hidden behind the oak tree, with Goose sitting on 3 eggs. I had to pick her up and put her back in her cage, before the fox found her. I have now left her with one of her eggs and a chicken egg (which might be fertile). I think the goose eggs will make nice rich cakes. We scrambled one, and the yolk was very large. One egg is about the size of 3 chicken eggs, with a very tough shell.

My only other news is that I have bought a new coat. I hate shopping, but it has been so wet, and it always pours with rain when we go to the woods. There is a woman who I sometimes see in the distance, who has a very long flowing coat that reaches her wellies, and I have been coveting it. Today we went to a garden centre that has lots of equestrian stuff, and there were long, flowing coats for horse-riders. I do not ride, but I rather fancy looking like I do, so I bought one. It’s wonderfully practical, with a hood and pockets and reflective stripes for wearing in the dark. I shall swoosh around the woods looking like I have lost my horse, with mad dog in tow. Perfect.

Hope you have a good week, with not too much horrid stuff and a few little treats, so you can feel that life is ‘normal.’ I also hope it rains (it probably won’t rain for months now, and I won’t be able to test my coat).
Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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The Police-Dog Trainer

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Yesterday we went to see the man who trained police dog handlers, and now helps people like me. It was an interesting experience. We arrived in a quiet country lane, and he asked me to walk Meg up and down so he could watch what we had done. I prayed that a car wouldn’t pass (and kill us both as she lurched towards it) and set off, feeling nervous. I had fresh turkey in my pocket, and made sure that Meg knew it was there. As we walked, I praised her while she was walking with me, as I’ve been instructed to do, and fed her snippets of turkey. When she pulled, I told her no, telling her: ‘With me!’ (the words I use to keep her on track). We turned after a few metres and returned to the man.

I could see in his eyes that I hadn’t done well, so smiled and asked him to tell me what I needed to change. (Husband told me that while I was walking, the trainer and his partner had watched, making comments about how lovely Meg is, and how like one of their previous dogs, and what a great animal she was. I didn’t know this until afterwards.)

The trainer said I was completely muddling Meg, and she wanted to please me but she didn’t have the first clue what I wanted! He said the constant praise/feeding while we walked made me a food-machine, not a leader, and she didn’t associate the praise with walking well, nor the corrections with pulling. He said I was producing white-noise, and all Meg knew was that when we walk, I talk a lot!

He asked why Meg was wearing a collar and a harness, with the lead attached to both. I explained that she’s too strong for me, and it enables me to control her with both arms. I didn’t say it was what I had been instructed to use at puppy classes, because I didn’t want to waste the lesson with a long diatribe against other trainers. He asked permission to switch the harness for a slip-lead.

A slip-lead is a canvas lead, with a ring, that slips easily both ways making a noose that tightens and releases. I explained that Meg currently has a lovely disposition, and I didn’t want to use pain as a training method in case it encouraged aggressive behaviour. He explained that he also would never use pain, that the fashion in the 80’s of using electric-shock collars, and choker-chains was terrible, and he considered them wrong. He actively disliked owners who train with pain. However, he said a slip-lead was a brief corrective discomfort that released as soon as the dog was in position, and it let her know where to walk. He then showed me.

The trainer took Meg, and walked down the lane. He didn’t speak. Meg walked quietly next to him, and I wondered whether he had hypnotised her. Then she got antsy, and jumped at him. The trainer didn’t react, he waited, completely still, until she was calm, then walked again, and Meg walked with him. A couple of times she started to pull, and he gave a brief tug, Meg self-corrected and the walk continued. They walked calmly down the lane and back again. For the first time, I witnessed Meg being the dog I wanted and the feeling of relief and hope was palpable. Husband and I stared at each other, and laughed. How was this even possible?

The trainer returned, and explained that he hadn’t talked at Meg, because she’s a dog, and dogs don’t talk when they walk together. Nor do they like being touched when outside, and by offering physical affection, I was forcing her to cope with an unnatural behaviour. He also pointed out that after being corrected, Meg had shaken (like she was wet) and he said that was her ‘resetting’ herself, ready to walk how he wanted. He assured me that Meg is a ‘classy bit of kit’ and I just need to learn how to handle her.

The lesson then moved to a small field. He told me to release Meg, which made me very nervous (there was a horse in the next field, and I didn’t know how close the road came). He assured me that Meg is a pack animal, she would be fine, I simply need to behave like the alpha-dog in the pack. We walked away from Meg, and she followed, never going too far. I was taught how to call her, moving my hands to in front of me when she arrived, and then feeding her treats while she sat. I then decide when the sitting would end (not her) by touching her face and ‘walking through her’ when it was time to move. I should not tell her to ‘wait’, instead she must learn that when told to sit, she stays in position until released. She did this for him (recognised his authority) but not for me (recognised I am flakey).

He explained a few facts about working GSD, and why I have been having such problems, and how to solve them. While he spoke Meg went and barked at the horse, and then came and dug a hole at our feet. He said to ignore her, it didn’t matter, and periodically we moved across the field, never calling her, knowing that she would follow because she wanted to be with the pack.

In a nutshell (you can decide for yourself whether you agree) this is what he said:

Working GSD (and I suspect other ‘working’ breeds) are closer to natural animals than pets, and should be treated accordingly. Therefore it’s important to understand something about how packs of dogs function, and to communicate in ways they understand. Chatting to Meg is apparently wrong (I have always chatted to my dogs, I feel it’s important they know I’m going to the shop!) as this becomes ‘white noise’ so they get used to tuning me out. (Pretty sure husbands do this too.) All eye-contact and greetings and petting should convey the message that I am the alpha dog, and not Meg. So in the morning, she should return to her crate after toileting, and then I should ignore her until I am ready to ‘notice’ her and fuss her. Having alone-time is important, as it will encourage her to want to please me when she’s with me.

He commented that lots of people my age struggle with a new puppy, because it’s much harder to behave like a pack animal when there aren’t children in the house! When Kia was a puppy, 17 years ago, I had children who needed taking to school and clubs, and I was working part-time, my life was generally busier; so the puppy had to fit in. She didn’t have as much attention, she was used to me giving a command: ‘Everyone get in the car!’ and the whole pack obeyed—so being part of that was natural. I didn’t have to assert my authority, because when I shouted that it was dinner time, or we should leave, or it was time for school, the puppy watched the whole pack respond. However, Meg has become the centre of my world, I plan my day around her exercise and training, and she has responded accordingly. She has learnt some ‘tricks’ but does not expect to change her behaviour. This needs to stop. It’s not simply a matter of training her to walk on the lead, I need to be the boss.

He gave me some homework. When Meg behaves badly (biting the lead, jumping at me, pulling) I should simply stop, stand still, avoid eye-contact and ignore her. When she stops, and looks at me, I then resume what I am doing—she has to learn she is not important. If she’s being completely stupid, and won’t stop tugging at the lead or jumping, then I stop trying to train her, and put her back into the crate. I do not allow any behaviour I do not want, because repeating things makes them normal.

I have to stop putting her into situations where she will fail (like the park, or near traffic) and teach her to walk on the lead. When she can reliably walk on the lead properly, I then introduce different situations that I want her to ignore. So, when she can walk on the lead in the garden, we then walk on the lead in an empty car park. And then in a quiet road. And then in the park, and then the High Street, and so on.

I need to do the same with her recall (so when I shout ‘Come!’ she comes, immediately, and sits in front of me until I release her). I can work on her ability to wait, by gradually increasing the amount of time I leave her—from literally 2 seconds (so not even turning properly away) to being able to walk out of the room and come back 10 minutes later. Again, first somewhere boring, then when she has solidly learnt it, repeating the same behaviour somewhere more difficult. He made it look and sound very easy. We left feeling very positive, and full of hope. I am prepared to work at this, but I need to know I will eventually succeed, and for the first time I began to feel less depressed about the whole situation.

Hope all is going well in your world. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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