Beary Happy Bear-thday

I did have a dog growing up – a daschund named Brandy – but he died when I was about 15, and there were no pets of any kind after him. Well, not until after Marc and got married, and acquired the first of many cats … and guppies … rabbit … guinea pigs … more cats … and of course, latterly, guinea fowl, duck[s] and goats.

But mainly cats.

So it was a huge surprise for many of my nearest and dearest  when I was adopted by Bear.

He was born on the property next door

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and decided fairly quickly that I was his person.

**Cue puppy nuzzling into the side of my neck**

Brenda: ” You can have him if you like”

Me: “But I don’t need a dog”

Brenda:” But you can have this one …”

Me: “But …”

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Well we all know how THAT turned out don’t we?

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Today, after a run past the butcher for the obligatory Natal Anniversary Bag O’ Bones, His Beariness was conveyed with full pomp and circumstance [ well actually, it was just the rug on the back seat of the SUV ] over to Emu Creek for a 5th birthday nosh-up with his sister Molly, and various members of the extended pack.

So Happy Birthday little buddy. Can’t imagine life without you any more.

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A Bearcut

 

The weather has been [finally ] warming up and so, inevitably, we have come to Bear’s least favourite day of the year.The Annual Shearing of His Hairy Beariness.
It’s not just a heat thing – although that is one major consideration -but out here, the grass seeds are a real problem. Nasty wiry little beggars that cling onto anything and given half a chance will burrow into places one doesn’t really want grass seeds. So given the magnificent lushness of the pelt on The Bear, a trip to the hairdresser was in order.

Cue the shaking and shivering on the back seat of the car

which lasted precisely as long as it took to drive around the corner to Bear’s ‘stylist’ Ms Leanne

whom he just adores

What he doesn’t love is

a] that he gets sent home sporting a bow on his collar [ although at least this time he got a blue one ] and smelling like a Francophilic female of negotiable virtue.

and

b] he gets teased by the duck

It’s really more than a bare Bear can bear.

The really weird thing though is that I almost expect him to behave differently once I get him home. I feel like I’ve got a different dog, so how can he possibly behave like MY Bear ?

 

A Bear At The Bot

It was such a beautiful crisp Autumn morning

After the obligatory morning bark-at-the-annoying-little-mop-down-the-road, I decided to accompany my human into town. I don’t really enjoy sitting in that noisy thing she calls ‘car’ but it’s the only way that I can get to several interesting places.

Some days we use it to visit my family on Nannie and Poppie’s farm [ Mum refers to them as Pete-and-Brenda ]

and sometimes we go and hang out in the back garden at The Dove where they make wonderful things that include BACON and call me “Good Dog”

but today I thought that my human needed a bit of exercise so we went to walk the circuit at the Castlemaine Botanical Gardens.

While we waited for our friend Robyn to arrive with the chai, I caught up with all the news on the local notice-board:Here I am helping Mum’s friend Robyn to admire the view

This is “No Bear you can’t go for a swim in Lake Johanna”

local layabouts

We saw Mum’s friend J9

and I have to leave you there. There’s some magpies that need a good being barked at.

 

 

A shawl, some kids and a bare Bear

You probably already are aware  that I’ve recently finished the ‘Hair Of The Dog’ shawl from my handspun alpaca/ samoyed / polwarth wool yarn.

I quite enjoyed making it, and certainly enjoyed the challenge of spinning samoyed wool, but there are limits to how many shawls a woman can actually wear so I’d decided that it needed to belong to my goats-and-gardens friend Brenda.

So Nadie, Bear and I were heading that way yesterday for a spot of lunch with the promise of ancillary brand new baby goat snuzzling.

About the time the Girl was putting on her farm tramping shoes, I realised that I didn’t yet have a photo of the finished shawl, so that was speedily remedied

and then I couldn’t resist taking one of the ‘Hair of the Dog’ with his hairy beariness who, of course, didn’t stay still long enough for my stooooopid camera but you get the idea.

Much goat snuzzling ensued, Nadie took pics of the new kids, Brenda cooked us a great lunch, and Bear came home heavily scented with  Eau-de-Goat Poo, which lasted about as long as it took me to throw him in the shower.

Net result: one extremely fluffy canine distinctly unimpressed at the enforced bath when he had one only last weekend.

Then last night I got a call from the dog groomer to see if I’d like to bring him in this morning instead of next week.

Forecast for today? 33C ! so yes please!

The sooner all that hair was off, the better … but … did I mention that part of the whole grooming thing involves a b-a-t-h ?

Someone was distictly underwhelmed

Did I remember to get a good shot of him pre haircut? asked Nadie when I got back … erm … ahh … that would be a no.

Buggerit.

and then we went back a couple of hours later to a completely unrecognisable – but much cooler – canine

Here he is being beary unimpressed

I IZ NOT LOOKING AT U I IZ NOT HAPPY WIF U PEEPLEZ

I mean what he-dog wants to come home wearing a sissy red bow and smelling like a French tart ?

IZ I STILL HANDSOME ?