Buy a bag of Pedigree Chum kibbles and get a blow up dog for free. Who could refuse ?
We try out a new cafe. I'm a little worried that Sophie might have a 'moment' but she settles down under a table, behind Bob, and dozes. The waiter brings a bowl of water.
The lady in the newsagent has had a new delivery of books.
Our late afternoon walk. There are lots of deer about. Bob is put on his lead. He turns and lets me know I really should try to keep up.
Oh, and regarding yesterdays canine 'mishap '. We usually buy bird food in two kilo bags. The farm outlet has sold out. ' We've got a couple of twenty five kilo bags of sunflower seeds left over from last years harvest ' says the manager. He hauls out of the stockroom two enormous sacks. When we get home Angus stacks them on the downstairs terrace. He then forgets all about them. Bob and Sophie, or more particularly Sophie, love Sunflower seeds. The temptation is simply too great. Both sacks are savaged and opened. What she can't eat she scatters all over the terrace floor. The wild birds are very happy with this arrangement.
And this should be a lesson to all. Never drink and try to move a sofa : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tex-M3rjDWk
I've yet to discover what it is ...
..... but there's something in the PONs demeanour that hints at a 'mishap'.
On second thoughts there's something about their angelic behaviour that SHOUTS OUT that somethings 'happened'. Bob is wearing his patented " I love you and I hope you love me too no matter what I've done " face.
Time will reveal all.
The PONs sit on the garden table and bark at the wind. This activity is usually frowned upon but today the wind is so loud that no one is likely to hear, or object, to their noise.
We try grooming them but give up. Today is not a pristine fur day. We settle for the rescue dog look.
Bobs ditch has been refilled by overnight rain. He is delighted. He positions himself carefully on the edge and has a long satisfying slurp. One of these days you know he's going to lose his balance and topple in.
The cheese mongers wife has stuck a poster for a musical act on her door. '' Do you know them ? They're very famous in England " she says. The 'very' is stressed as if they're on a par with Adele. Angus silently wonders why, if they're that famous , they're coming to deepest France profonde in the off season. Not wishing to be thought cynical he keeps this thought to himself.
It may be cold and windy in the North. Here it's just wet. Very wet. Bob is waiting for me when I come down the stairs. His tail bangs in delight against the hall table.
Sophie yelps to let me know she's awake. Then the two of them look at me. They are in a ' raring to go ' mood. In fact they're in a 'raring to go' mood every morning.
We head off to the little market town for lunch. We're given a quiet 'dog owners' booth at the back. Bob and Sophie consider going over to introduce themselves to two ladies on the other side of the restaurant but are 'discouraged'. Bob, who senses steak, gives the ladies his best ' I love you ' look. The waitress brings them each a bowl of peas and beans. They eat then fall asleep. As Angus pays the bill Bob tries his matinee idol charm on a group of diners at a table by the door. This involves sitting and staring . He's ignored.
On our way back to the car park it rains. The PONs leap in and out of puddles. They also drink out of them.
Just another quiet day with dogs. Puddles, peas and beans. Can it get any better ?
The day starts off dry but by mid-morning a powerful Atlantic front brings rain and grey skies. Angus thinks it's a bit like a February day on Tiree. ' The Font ' points out that it's more like an August day on Tiree.
As the rain falls Bob sits in the office with Angus. Sophie joins 'The Font' in a webinar with the Pasadena astrophysicists. The astrophysicists are younger than the astronomers and have more hair. They wear fleeces ( presumably because the air conditioning is ferocious ) and drink from huge Styrofoam cups. What they drink is a mystery. Today's lecturer signals the end of each topic with a staccato " You all cool with that ? ". Before anyone has a chance to respond he's off again. Angus is not cool with any of it. He can't help but notice that the entire class seems to be composed of Chinese teenagers. Sophie is completely engrossed by what she sees on the screen .
In the supermarket Gombo's and Physalis make an appearance. Why these exotic products are suddenly appearing in deepest France profonde is something of a retailing mystery. Dog and master buy a pint of milk.
Huge storms have been ravaging the coast. Thankfully everyone was saved but this video is terrifying : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQPGoubOsWk
Men in white vans arrive. They spend the morning marking out strange hieroglyphs in orange paint along the lane. Work on the new zebra crossing might be about to start.
The PONs display an avid interest in what the workmen are doing.
Bob comes with me to the Volvo garage to put down the deposit on the new car . Angus is instructed not to order the car in white " It looks like an ambulance ", or black " It looks like a hearse ". He chooses an unexceptional shade of grey. Angus would have been happy with another Land Rover ( a very British concoction of wood veneer and leather seats ) but the Volvo sales mans wife has just given birth to a little boy. For 'The Font' that is the clincher.
After the paperwork is done Bob is allowed a walk round the dealers lot. He sniffs and then christens the front passenger tyre on no less than nine new cars. He radiates the happiness of a de-threated job well done.
Angus and Bob set off down to the little waterfall. The dogs master chats away happily to his canine companion. The PONs tail wags. Sophie stays in the kitchen to oversee the preparation of Bechamel sauce.
So passes another day in deepest, deepest France profonde.
The little market town deserted apart from a senior gentleman dragging a brightly coloured shopping trolley. He whistles, atonaly, as he goes. The PONs aren't quite sure how to respond to his whistling. Bob walks ahead ready to defend his flock. Sophie guards from behind my legs.
An exotic addition makes its way onto the fresh vegetable counter. We read the description but are no wiser as to what it might be. It's unlikely the staid citizens of SW France use it in their cooking. Angus is left to ponder how big the Cameroonian export market for Chikouang can be.
In the afternoon it rains heavily. Between downpours the PONs are keen to get out into the garden.
They have both perfected that ' What do you mean it's too wet to play ? ' look.
Bob insists on drinking from the stagnant puddle by the horse field. This is presumably flavoured with an irresistible equine essence that he simply can't get enough of.
It goes without saying that Scotland lose to England in the weekend rugby match.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=daQCPz-pNGg
And this is one very feisty lady ( and a wonderful journalist ). All bullies should be dealt with like this. http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/2/b57fee24-cb3c-11e5-be0b-b7ece4e953a0.html#axzz3yFpYhJCC
The ' big' car is now 9 years old. The cruise control has become temperamental and the rear parking camera is suffering from blurred vision. We head off to the Volvo garage in the little Skoda in search of a replacement.'' That's far too big " says 'The Font' eyeing up a 4x4 in the forecourt. '' This is a much better size ". The 'much better sized' vehicle is exactly the same as the first one except in a different colour. Angus says nothing.
The young salesman asks if we'd like a test drive. '' What a good idea" replies 'The Font'. They return after twenty minutes. I can't help but think that the young man appears more nervous than he was before setting off.
Sophie opts for an afternoon spent sunbathing on the garden table. She sleeps with her tongue sticking out.
After two nights away the French teachers Labradors have returned safely home. One is lame and covered in cuts. The other looks as though he's been for a walk in the park. They sleep the deep uninterrupted sleep of safely reunited family dogs.
And here's some music for Sunday morning : https://youtu.be/YykjpeuMNEk
It usually takes twenty minutes to get to the market. Today it takes an hour. The farmers are blockading the motorway exits and burning tyres on the road that runs along the riverbank. Something to do with a lack of government subsidies. We take a detour inland but the protesters have parked tractors and combine harvesters across the bypass. The PONs think it's wonderful. Angus less so.
Some Turbot from the fishmongers. At the Italian delicatessen Rabbit and Rosemary Ravioli. The angelic duo get given some Pecorino. Bob shows his overbite and does his soft shoe shuffle. Angus is always worried that some unsuspecting passer by will mistake the joy overload for a fit.
It takes an hour to get home. Angus listens to the morning news. You know when there is going to be a bout of Brit bashing when the announcer starts to refer to ' Nos amis les anglais '. Today there is a twenty minute diatribe about why Europe would be better off without us .
Four shaggy donkeys have appeared in the field next to the orchard. They munch away and blithely ignore the PONs.
Sophie plays with lamb on a rope ....
... while Bob joins his master on a tour of the village. The French teachers Labradors have run off again. She is distraught. They've managed to dislodge a fence post and dig their way out. We walk for two hours but there's no sign of them.
Just another quiet day in deepest , deepest France profonde.
This is interesting : http://www.marketwatch.com/story/this-top-nyc-dog-walker-makes-110000-a-year-2016-02-05?dist=countdown
Bob lies on the doorstep contemplating the meaning of life. Outside, on the lane,The Old Farmer is tinkering with the underside of his venerable motor home. '' Soon have her running like new " he says, optimistically. He's making plans for a fresh trip to Belarus .
Bobs sister exudes happiness. Her run in with the hallucinogenic mushrooms now forgotten. Sophie keeps a close eye on the finches on the bird table. Every half an hour or so there is burst of activity as she leaps up and barks at them. A reminder of who's boss. The finches are unimpressed and carry on their contented squabbling.
There is a gathering in the town hall. Two white vans with orange roof lights arrive. Men with clipboards emerge. As we venture across the village green on our pre-lunch constitutional we can see the mayor, his secretary and the gentleman with the yellow day-glo visibility vest deep in discussion. Being a French discussion there is much arm waving. Perhaps this signals progress on the new zebra crossing ?
A warm February day draws to a close. Bob remains on guard at the front door.
Horses have arrived in the fields on the other side of the lane. Bob is put on his lead. Not that he's aggressive just extremely inquisitive. Bob has to stop and stare at the new arrivals. This makes the morning walk a stop-start affair.
Sophie continues with the activated carbon and a stomach calming solution. This is syringed into her mouth twice a day. She is a perfect patient. Even the charcoal tablets are swallowed enthusistically.
In the supermarket it's North Africa week. A sign appears on the refrigerator by the cash desk. A thousand and one Maghreb flavours.
Angus looks in to see what delicacies might be on offer. The choice is pedestrian. A Halal Pizza Bolognaise, Halal Potato Burgers ( or Potatoes Burgers as it says on the box ) , Cheese Naan, or bizarrely, that old North African staple Chilli con Carne Burritos. This cornucopia of delights fails to grab our fancy.
Bob ends his day as he began it - guarding his flock.
Still no sign of work starting on the new zebra crossing. However, a man arrives to drive away the large orange mechanical digger that has been parked outside the church for the last two weeks. A sign of progress ?
We spend the morning collecting mushrooms. There's enough to fill four large bin bags. After a longer than usual lie in Sophie reappears as bright as rain. She's wearing her ' what hallucinogenic mushrooms ? ' face.
Mindful of the night before ( and Sophie's peculiar antics ) Bob displays his 'steadfast and true' big brother attributes. He divides his time between shepherding his flock and checking on his sister.
On our journey through Europe we've dealt with tongue destroying processionary caterpillars, poisonous toads, piroplasmosis bearing ticks, arsenic laced chicken laid down by Italian hunters and discarded organo-phosphate sacks dumped by Umbrian fly tippers. To this list can now be added mood altering mushrooms. A dog owners education is never complete. Thank heavens for the reliable vets who've been there when needed.
With Sophie's speedy and complete recovery all is once again well at The Rickety Old Farmhouse. Noise and mischief reign.
As the sun sets Bob and Sophie head off into the orchard for a pre-dinner romp. We laugh at the sight of the two of them hurtling round the lavender beds at high speed. We stop laughing when we notice that Sophie has lost all sense of direction. She hurtles through the lavender, bulldozes into Bob and head butts trees. I manage to pick her up. She's trembling uncontrollably. Pupils wide.
Sometimes communication is non-verbal. 'The Font' is already heading back inside to get the car keys while simultaneously dialing the vet on the mobile. He's waiting at the surgery. Checks made. Sophie has managed to find some hallucinogenic mushrooms in the orchard. 'How long will it last ? ' asks 'The Font'. '' If it's what I think it is anything from two to twenty hours. You'll just have to brave it out . Don't leave her alone".
It has been an interesting night with a PON princess as high as a kite. Water is syringed into her mouth. Activated carbon administered every four hours. In the garden she tries to climb trees, walks on her back legs and 'chats' with the owls on the roof of the barn.
Bob, being top dog, is distraught. His sister is quite unconcerned. She's living the 60's California surfer lifestyle. She finally calms down and falls sound asleep at four. A ten hour high. When it's fully light Angus will be out to remove every mushroom he can from the garden.
The never ending adventure of living abroad with dogs.
