Remarkable sounds.

Some dogs are quiet dogs. Other dogs aren't. Bob rarely barks but he does make some remarkable sounds.

This morning he's particularly communicative. A medley of whines, moans and grunts. There are also facial contortions. I think he may be telling me to get a move on.

When his his sister wants something she is rather more direct in her communication. She screams.

Off to the supermarket. This morning amid the exotic fruits a new arrival - 'The Sweet Passion Fruit Straw'. This is something that appears to be exactly what it says on the packet. A passion fruit that you stick a straw into. We are none the wiser. 

Two interesting articles. 

This struck me as a very fair obituary. She was as small as a sparrow but as fearsome as an eagle. http://www.economist.com/news/obituary/21694453-driving-force-behind-ronald-reagans-presidency-was-94-nancy-reagan-americas-first-lady

The old phrase - Pride comes before a fall  - seems to have held true here.

http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2016/03/marco-rubio-2016-campaign-drop-out-213736

Brutalist architecture.

Day 2 of warm Spring weather. We park in the centre of the little market town. Today is an easy parking day. The PONs are harnessed up and leap down expectantly. Previous generations of PONs had a farm to run around, farmhands to pester, tractors to bark at. This generation have a quieter life. They have us. They seem  unperturbed by the lack of excitement.

The Post Office has been remodeled. It does not mesh sensitively with the unrestored half of the building. Perhaps if it hadn't been painted white the renovation wouldn't have stood out quite so starkly ?

We wander on down to the canal. Bob loves the canal. He can sprint in a straight line until he's almost out of sight. Then he sprints back. The closer he is to the edge , the happier. Sophie is more of a stop/start sprinter. She gets easily diverted by the scents along the wall.

Home. It's a day for dozing in the garden. Sophie sleeps on the newly planted lavenders. I try to explain that they're not cushions. She looks at me blankly.

Fresh green beans with the dinner kibbles. How's that for a GREAT day ?

Rump in - Nose out.

A change in the weather. The temperature rising. Shirt sleeve weather for the morning walk. Spring has arrived.

Bob takes up his RINO position at the front door . Rump in - Nose out.  No one can enter the house without this sheepdogs knowledge and approval. He thinks he looks ferocious. 

Bob can spend all day like this. Elemental herding. It's in his DNA. Every half an hour or so he'll shoot up and out in chase of a blackbird or one of those invisible things only dogs see.

Sometime his sister joins him. At other times she patrols the laurel hedge in search of moles but mostly she guards the kitchen.

Those routines too unimportant for a diary but which shape a dog owners day.

An embarrassing story : http://www.cbc.ca/beta/news/canada/newfoundland-labrador/jailed-saint-john-s-british-ashes-ketamine-border-services-1.3488751

I yelp because I can.

For their owners it's just another Monday morning.

For the PONs it's the start of the most exciting day ever.

Bob and Sophie's morning begins at high speed and accelerates from there.

This morning we walk down to the locks on the canal. Sophie yelps with delight.

Then it's off to the bakers for the breakfast croissants. Slivers of choux pastry are dispensed to the angelic duo. This cements their belief that today is the best day ever. The bakers wife tries to sell me another chocolate coated Barbie. Amazingly, the last one has been sold.

A trois chocolats for me and a Rhum Baba for 'The Font' .

Angus continues to plough through the mayors document stash. Most of the documents are in Occitane. The French language having made a relatively recent appearance in village life.

Balmy.

Sophie is up bright and early. She stares to let me know that it's time to get the day started.

Bob joins her .

In case I've missed the point they clamber onto their wooden table and power stare .

Bob licks his sisters ear. She sighs and gives me a look that says 'this wouldn't be happening if you'd been quicker'.

The first of the seasons Gariguette strawberries on sale. Six weeks earlier than last year. This mild weather is bizarre.

The fresh vegetable section continues to amaze

The mayor arrives with two suitcases of documents. The full village archives were lost in a fire in June 1945. The two suitcases contain everything that was salvageable.The first document I find and translate is the census for 1800. The population then was 725. Today it's 67.

'The Font' is off in two weeks to look at stars from the top of a  mountain in California. Angus is asked if he'd like to come. The thought of three teetotal days spent above the cloud line with a dozen astrophyicists is uninviting. Angus opts to spend time in Laguna Beach. He's never been to Laguna Beach but the name sounds balmy.

Not prepared for.

The workmen have been busy painting the new zebra crossing.

Bob and his master both agree that this is a disproportionate traffic calming addition for a village of 67 inhabitants.

The PONs are loaded in the car and driven to the little market town. We have found a new dog friendly cafe.
Perhaps a bit too dog friendly. Sophie lets a Spaniel and a shaggy mutt know that she's a Princess and does not want to make their acquaintance. We quickly drink our coffees and leave before there is a 'diva' moment.

The circus is back in town. It's here for 5 nights. The PONs discover that real live elephants have recently been out for their morning constitutional. This is a dog walking hazard their owners were not prepared for.

Sophie is 'hurried' along before her urge to 'recycle' gets the better of her.

No need to record that.

A van arrives to install two speed bump signs.

We go to buy some cakes from the post natally depressive bakers wife.

The PONs get given some flaky pastry crumbs.

Angus is asked if he'd like to buy a chocolate coated doll. The terrible thing looks like a praline encrusted Barbie. Where would you start ? Tear the head off and grab an arm ? We decline.

Sophie is in need of a grooming.

Post grooming she looks altogether more composed.

'The Font' has suggested Angus write a history of the village . '' You don't want to appear standoffish ". An early evening champagne gathering is arranged. Everyone shows up. Angus asks the villagers what their memories are. The mayor tells a wonderful story . One of the medieval bells was transferred to the new clock tower when the old church was demolished in 1860. During the war the other bells were taken to be melted down but this old one was overlooked and survived. In 1945 on the day the Germans retreated the local youths rang the bell so long and so hard that it cracked. A huge pent up tumbling out of joy. It has never been rung since. 

The Very Old Farmer has been wheeled into the downstairs library by the District Nurse. He perks up when he hears this story and happily informs us '' What a night that was ! I made a number of young ladies very happy ". He then chuckles. Madame Bay rather primly announces that I don't need to write down every story.

Normal service resumed.

It is cold and wet in the UK. We return to find it warmer but equally wet here.

Sophie tries to give us her cold shoulder ' How could you have left me ? ' treatment but she's too happy to be standoffish for long.

On leaving the kennels Bob amazes us by literally flying into the back of the car. Can a dog leap twenty feet ? 

Spaghetti for dinner. Sophie wolfs it down. Bob, comically, savours it strand by strand.

By nine the angelic duo are sound asleep.

Normal service has been resumed at The Rickety Old Farmhouse

An antidote.

Bob knows that something isn't right.

So does Sophie.

Perhaps it's the sight of their beds being loaded into the car but they sense a trip to the K-E-N-N-E-L-S is imminent.

We're off to the funeral of an old friend. After a long, unfair illness her defiant last words were ' I want a Cobra' *. 

It takes a very special sort of person to be remembered for her mirth. This isn't the same as being funny, or good-natured. Nor is it simply the opposite of morose. It's having a sense of wonder. A mind that seeks out the kind and well mannered as an antidote for what ails the world. People have plenty to worry about these days, politics, jobs, terrorism, climate change. Perhaps that's why there is plenty of comedy but less merriment.

The PONs will be picked up on Wednesday. Normal service will resume on Thursday morning.

* An Indian bottled beer.

Hedgehogs.

That Monday morning feeling. Sophie's face says it all.

It was a PON party night. Around eleven a family of hedgehogs wandered through the orchard. Bob howled and pawed at the door. Angus went in search of his thick leather gardening gloves. The hedgehogs were picked up and safely carried into the field by the stream. The PONs 'helped'.

Hedgehogs must be really malodorous if sleeping PONs can smell them from a hundred yards away.

This was played as the theme tune on the Radio France breakfast programme this morning :  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzESWkLZzzQ

Caterpillars.

Bob hears the church bells, barks and appears in the kitchen. His day has started.

Sophie isn't far behind. She gets a morning kiss. This is not appreciated.

Bob leaps into the back of the car and sits in his sisters spot. This causes a ruckus. After much howling Bob repositions himself . The angelic duo are then ready for their morning excursion into town.

Easter eggs make a appearance en masse on the supermarket shelves.

We try a baker we've never been to before. The choice unexciting. The PONs are ignored. The baker will not be on our fixtures list. Sophie gives a '' we shall not return " yelp as we leave. The Scarlett O'Hara of the dog world.

So starts a Sunday morning in deepest France profonde. It would be a quiet Sunday morning were it not for the PONs belief that every day should be greeted exuberantly.

The French teacher phones to say she's spotted the first procession of poisonous caterpillars. Her two Labradors are now kept on their leads. Bob and Sophie will be too. http://anglophone-direct.com/pine-processionary-caterpillars/