This is the last nap time edition. They are still cute (of course they are), but by now it’s beginning to get a bit booooooring to watch animals sleep.
Sunday Selections is hosted by Kim from Frogpondsrock and gives us the opportunity to finally post those photos that have been hanging around in folders on our computers for ages.
21 year old Bengeltje
Holle and Mozes
Evie, two days old and all legs
This is the 50th edition of Sunday Selections, hosted by the very creative and lovely Kim from Frogpondsrock. Sunday Selections gives us the opportunity to post those photos that have been hanging around on our computers(s) for ages. I seem to have a lot of photos of sleepy animals, so this is the second edition of my Sleepy Sunday Selections. A third edition will follow next Sunday. We will all be terribly bored by then.
For other, more ‘professional’, photos taken by yours truly and featuring horses and their humans, see my attempt to start a photography business.
NAP TIME (again)
Sunday Selections is a great meme that gives us the opportunity to post those almost forgotten photos that have been hanging around in folders on our computers. Kim from Frogpondsrock came up with this great idea. If you like to join in, just hop over to the rocking frog ponds and post a selection of your own. You know how these things work.
Last week I promised you a selection of photos that will make you chuckle or say ‘awww’.
Oh, the pressure.
I hope you won’t be disappointed. And I have to warn you: in some shots Biggles shamelessly displays his balls. He’s a proud boy.
NAP TIME
Which is why we usually just sit on the floor.
Warned you about the Biggles-balls. It does get worse though…
See?
For more sleepy photos of the furry bunch, you’ll have to wait for the next Sunday Selections. I have loads of them and I haven’t even posted the cutest yet…
An email exchange with Janice from Jabblog brought back a memory that I thought I’d share with you.
First some very elaborate background information:
When you get a pet, you probably want to give it a name. Most people do. (Although, I’ve sometimes thought I shouldn’t have bothered thinking of lovely, fitting names for our dogs. We could have just called them all Cookie. They’re back with you in no time when you shout ‘cooookie’ in a high pitched voice.)
This story is about dogs and their names. People who breed dogs, sometimes have their own rules for naming their pups. Sometimes they name their pups after flowers, or for every litter the name should start with a particular letter, or every pup should be named after a Greek god(dess). And then of course sometimes they have a kennel name, either to be placed in front of or behind the name of the pup.
For instance: our Phoebe is officially called: Kim’s News Look Elegant Phoebe. Kim’s News Look = kennel name, Elegant is the collective litter name, Phoebe is the dog’s name.
Holle is officially called: Bonbon of Clay Diggers. Of Clay Diggers is the kennel name and Holle’s name should start with a B. We thought of Bonbon, because she’s from Belgium and they are famous for their delicious chocolate bonbons. But we had already decided that her name would be Holle.
And then there is Biggles. He’s called Boy O Boy Biggles of Towns Channel. Of Towns Channel is the kennel name. He had to be named after a rose, Boy O Boy, and we wanted to call him Biggles.
So far the elaborate background information.
This is the story:
We have labrador retrievers and used to train them for the hunt. Not that we ever planned to take them on a hunt, but they are retrievers, so we thought we’d let them do what they are bred for. And the training turned out to be a lot of fun for the dogs as well as for us humans. I even entered my dogs (our first labrador retriever Cosy (Cosy Karthuizer Valley) and Holle) in a couple of hunting competitions and we didn’t do too bad. Even won some prizes.
One year our club organized one of those competitions and they asked me to be the one to welcome the competitors and their dogs and tick their names off the list of competitors I’d been given. The list had the names of the dogs in alphabetical order and then the name of the handler.
I’d been given a wonky table and a chair, the list, the numbers the handlers had to wear on their outfit (so the judges knew who it was) and some other stuff, like a pen and a cup of coffee.
Welcoming and registering the competitors went something like this:
Man and very enthusiastic labrador approach the table. Labrador immediately jumps up, puts muddy front paws on wonky table, coffee falls over, pen rolls off, I dive under table to rescue pen, dog dives under table too and licks my face. I pop up again from under the table, wipe face, sit on chair, breathe, rescue list from muddy paws of dog that tries to get onto the table, and with a friendly smile say: “Welcome to this competition. Can I have the name of your dog please?”
Man: “Huh, yeah, thanks. Sorry about that. The dog’s name is Tommy.”
I go through the list of alphabetically ordered dog names until I reach the T: Tabatha’s Turd Turning Harry, Terrible Stinky of the Bean Farm, Twister of the Windy Willows….
“There’s no Tommy on the list, sir.”
”No Tommy?”
”No Tommy. But perhaps his ‘real’ name is different? The name on Tommy’s papers I mean.”
”Oh. Yeah. It is. I dunno. Uhm…” Turning around, looking for his wife who’s patiently waiting somewhere well out of the way of the growing row of people with happy labradors: “Honey! HONEY! What’s the name of our dog?!”
”What?”, woman shouts back.
”What’s our dog called?”
”Tommy!”
”Yeah. I know. But what’s his official name!”
”Uhh, I dunno. Something like Flippy Floppy something something.”
I go back through the list to the F’s. Fast Ada of the Furry Bunch, Fast Eddie of the Furry Bunch, Fast Freddie* of the Furry Bunch (a couple of brothers and sisters had been entered in the competition), Ferocious Brutus of the Nippy Teeth (not a typical labrador name), Foreseeing Trouble in the Woods… “No Flippy Floppies here, sir.”
“No Flippy Floppies?”
”No.”
Man looking back down the line of waiting people, busy untwisting their dog’s leash from other dogs’ leashes: “Hey Harry, what’s your dog called?”
”My dog?”
”Yeah.”
”Willy!”
”Yes, I know, but what’s his official name?”
”Uhm… Stormy Weather’s Weird William!”
”Oh yeah”, and turning to me again: “Tommy is called Stormy Weather’s Wonderful Wilfred.”
Me: “Of course.”
And so I wrestled through the list of dog names, because this wasn’t the only guy who didn’t know what his dog’s official name was. I suggested to the organizers to use a different list next time. One that stated the names of the handlers in alphabetical order. I think it’s safe to assume that most people do know their own names.
When I came home, I asked hubs: “Do you know the official names of our dogs?” Blank face: “Uhhh… no idea.”
* All the names of dogs in this post, apart from those of our own dogs, are fictitious. At least I hope so. I made them up. I had to, because this all happened years ago and I certainly don’t remember the names of these dogs.
Fast Freddie was inspired by one of Suldog’s teammates. I hope he doesn’t mind. Wouldn’t it be eerie if he turns out to have a brother called Eddie and a sister called Ada?
Our Sunday Selections host Kim’s daughter got married yesterday. She has some lovely photos and a memorable wedding story on her blog Frogpondsrock.
So I thought it would be nice to choose my Sunday Selections for this day, based on LOVE.
Sarah (the cat, sadly no longer with us) loved Phoebe (now 14 years old).
Lovedoves.
Hubs loves his horse Willem.
They all love each other.
It’s getting a bit crowded with so much love going on.
Cute love.
I loved this little cat, Lapje, but sadly she’s one of the fourleggers who’s no longer with us.
Well, who wouldn’t love Nufnuf’s smiling face.
Or that of his non-related brother Tumtum, who isn’t as smiley, but definitely very loveable.
There is so much love going on in our house, that I have enough photos for several Sunday Selections. More of the same will be in next week’s Sunday Selections.
It’s a sleepy bunch of cats and dogs in our house. And they like to snuggle up together. This is our 14 year old labrador Phoebe, holding paws with Snoes. What can I say… they obviously haven’t read the books or seen the cartoons in which cats and dogs hate each other.
Jay, over at the Depp Effect, has a wonderful three-legged, rescue(d) Greyhound called Sid, which always makes me wonder if the dog ever comes to you when you call him. I mean, if you call your dog Sid, that’s what he’s supposed to do isn’t it?
Sit? So how do you call a dog named Sid to come to you without confusing him?
Anyway, he’s a gentle guy and very well-behaved (if we can believe Jay, and I think we can). Sid is employed as a therapy-dog and he regularly takes Jay with him to visit the residents of a retirement home. Jay wrote a great story about that.
Reading her story made me think what would happen if I took one of my dogs to visit the elderly in a retirement home.
Holle for instance. She is a tank-shaped Labrador and very enthusiastic if she sees fresh blood in the form of a human.
Being a Labrador retriever, a dog that brings things to you with the aim to make you happy, she wants to have something in her mouth when she’s in a “Hi! Look at me! I’m a huge cute retriever!” –state. So she often just grabs the thing nearest to her. Usually a hand or an arm. Which scares the hell out of some people. Imagine if I take that tank-modelled, hand-grabbing, growling monster to see the elderly. I expect a whole bunch of them to drop dead immediately. So, should you need a place in a retirement home… Holle is for hire.
I could of course take Biggles to bring joy to the elderly. He’s the funniest and most enthusiastic Labrador on Earth. I took him to see the vet yesterday, because he has a little lump on his belly. Fortunately the vet decided it is a harmless lump that only needs to be removed if it gets so big that his pee-stream gets deflected and he’ll end up peeing against his paw. (Yesterday he peed on a chicken. Not intentionally. He just lifted his paw to pee against a tree and the chicken walked under him. They were both highly surprised.) The vet’s assistant doesn’t meet our animals very often, because usually the vet comes to our house. She was delighted to meet Biggles. And the feeling was totally mutual. He cracked her up. Jumping around, all four feet off the ground, his lead in his mouth, grunting from happiness. He doesn’t wag his tail. He wags his whole body. And every time she left the room and then returned again, he acted as if she’d been away for years and he’d missed her terribly. “Gosh, is he like that at home too?”, she asked a little out of breath from laughing. “Yep. Except when he sleeps”, I answered truthfully. The vet nodded. “Gawd, imagine having that around you all day long”, vet’s assistant wondered. “He’ll drive you mad.”
At which point vet and I looked at each other and both said: “Which explains a lot.” You see, our vet has a sense of humour and I have self-knowledge.
So… taking Biggles to see the elderly might liven up things, but perhaps a little bit too much. Not a safe option either. Imagine people clinging on to their Zimmer-frames for dear life and Biggles running off with walking sticks, knocking people over from left to right. It will be mayhem. And not a great idea. Unless of course you really need that place in a retirement home. Biggles is for hire too.
And then we have our Phoebe. But I couldn’t take her. They might keep her. She’s elderly herself. She’s 13, which is a respectable age for a labrador, and almost totally blind and deaf. Fortunately she has a strong heart, because she doesn’t hear or see you coming, so she’s often startled. She knows her way around our home and the grounds, but she’d probably be bumping into things if we take her somewhere else.
(We do however have a fourth black labrador, who is very well-behaved and could be cut out for the job. The only problem is: Mozes is the only one who is convinced he is a dog. He actually is a cat. A cat with an identity-crisis.)
So sadly none of our dogs (or cats) are really suited to have the important job of being a therapy-dog. But Sid is. I’d love to have a gentle dog visiting me should I ever end up in a retirement home. I can’t imagine life without fourlegged hairy creatures around me.
If you want to meet lovely Sid (and Jay), you should go over to Jay’s place.
All sorts of creatures live in our pond:
Lots of… uhm… interestingly coloured fish…
…at least one yellow bellied salamander of which I have no photo (yet), about 50 frogs in all sorts of shapes and sizes…
…and of course a dog. Or two. Or three. Well, they don’t actually live in the pond, but they do spend a lot of time in it.
Yesterday two of our dogs went for a swim and a frog jumped in too. It swam underneath Phoebe and surfaced just in front of Holle. It continued to swim and bumped it’s nose against Holle’s side. Like a mime-player it stretched out it’s front legs (or should we call them arms?) to feel what it had bumped into; fingers spread wide, slowly feeling from in front of it’s nose to the left and the right. So cute. It looked a bit puzzled when it felt all that fur and then decided that it was probably best to do a quick disappearing trick.
Meanwhile, yesterday we had our second harvest from the tiny vegetable patch. Chard or perpetual spinach.
I didn’t have a clue what to do with 
So a quiche I made. And both rules 1 and 3 proved to be correct.
Using puff pastry for the base and filling that with sweated down onion, garlic and chard, soft goats cheese, pine nuts, some fresh mint from the garden and a mixture of eggs and cream. And lots of pepper. Some grated Gouda to top it off, 20 minutes in the oven on 200 Celsius. 
And for dessert we had something really sweet:
Noticed Snoes’s little paw resting against Phoebe’s back? You can ‘biggify’ this photo by clicking on it. One of those heavenly benefits of using Windows Live Writer. All pictures will get bigger if you click on them. Bliss! And they appear where you include them in your post, without having to juggle them and the text around again and again. And again. Until you are ready for the men in white suits to take you away… That is why the photos in this post are dotted around all over the place. Just because…
