Parallels - Thematic Photography.

This week's theme set by Carmi is Parallel which if you are not careful could be confused with last week's Vertical.


I've elected to concentrate on animals this time - well on dogs and a hamster named Deirdre, an escapologist of some renown.

Lily, a Border Collie, takes the parallel bars at speed.

I wonder whether she could take the parallels of the background fence as well.

Deirdre was a childrens' pet some thirty years ago. It didn't matter to her whether parallel bars were vertical or horizontal, they were there to be gnawed or climbed on the way out of her cage.

Deirdre inside her cage for once.

 Labradors like to be inside the house but are equally at home sunning themselves on the deck but not on the parallel planks, their beds are more comfortable.

Sam and Maxie take it easy.

An engineering structure has parallels too as shown by the main support frame for the Statfjord B platform under construction at Rosenberg Verft. Stavanger in the 1980s.

Statfjord B MSF at Rosenberg Verft

You may draw other parallels by visiting Carmi's thematic photographic 153 parallel

The Man Who Talks to Dogs

A-Z Challenge – ‘D’

Because of my interest in dogs I started to write about the dogs in the village where I live. The outcome – I suppose I now know as many dogs as people and I’ve heard people call me, “The man who talks to dogs.”

The first dog I remember was when I was very young, I’m not sure that I was old enough to go to school. The only photograph (now lost) that I saw of my father was him kneeling on the front lawn with Punch. Punch was an Airedale with a simple attitude to cats – he hated them. Mind you he took it to extremes when he killed the landlord’s cat for being on his lawn.

The first dog that I was allowed to take out for a walk was a white Labrador/Lurcher named Laddie, the gentlest dog you could imagine. He kept us in rabbit meat during WWII. Poor Laddie came to an untimely death when he was chased out off an alleyway behind a village pub straight under the wheels of a lorry.

Flick, the Whippet, came from South Wales. She covered herself in glory in a very short time by catching a hare almost as big as herself. I once wrote a short story based on this event called ‘The Chase.’

Major the Springer Spaniel had a demeanour to match his name. I’ll swear he sat to attention while his photograph was taken. Major was owned by my future wife’s family in Stamford, Lincolnshire.

 Major

My wife and I have never had a dog. One of my sons and my daughter have made up for this. Milly and Cara were the last two Irish Water Spaniels owned by my son. Milly was the most intelligent dog I’ve ever met and not a bad footballer either. She craved chicken bones and was the scourge of the neighbourhood raiding refuse bins for the remains. (You may read about Milly and Cara at http://bobscotney.blogspot.com/2010/04/irish-water-spaniels.html).

Milly and Cara

My daughter who lives in America had two golden (yellow) Labradors, a brother and sister, named Sam and Maxie. They are the stars in my blog post ‘Dogs of Troy’ at http://bobscotney.blogspot.com/2010/09/dogs-of-troy.html

Gem, Sam, Jack and Maxie

 When my daughter moved house, the pack increased to four with the addition of Gem, a black Lab mutt, and Jack, the chocolate Labrador know affectionately as the ‘Brown Bomber.’ Jack is my Lucky Dog (http://bobscotney.blogspot.com/2010/12/lucky-dog.html)

 

Jack

 Only Gem of the ‘originals’ is still alive and she has been joined by the elder statesman, a Retriever named Cody – the most obedient dog I know. He loves fishing in the lake.

 Cody

Scout and Lily are the younger Retrievers in the house. I have been told that it’s my job this summer to train Lily to behave. Wish me luck when I talk to the dogs.

[Posts and photos on North Yorkshire Village Dogs may be found in my blog archives in December 2009, January, March, June, July, September, October and December 2010]

North Yorkshire Village Dogs - Pippa

The colour of this 17 month old Cockerpoo is officially apricot. Her muzzle and the ends of her ears, obviously derived from her spaniel lineage, are brown. Pippa has such a gentle touch; it feels like being brushed with a feather when she greets you in the street, unable to contain her excitement of meeting someone she knows. However if you visit Pippa at home you soon find out that her touch is somewhat heavier as she jumps up to welcome you.

Pippa came from a Lincoln breeder at the age of 8 weeks and was chosen for her size, temperament and for the fact that she does not shed any hair. Pippa is a well behaved dog, especially for her age. She walks well on a lead and responses to commands; if her owner stops to talk, Pippa will sit down without being told and waits patiently until it’s time to move on. Her Middlesbrough trainer has obviously done a good job with her and with her owner too, of course.

Full of life at all times, Pippa is just at home on the beach and especially on the moors which she gets to at least once a week. She is not at all afraid of going in the sea. There are no problems giving her a bath or drying her with a hair drier. When she comes in from a walk she will sit on the mat and raise each paw in turn to be wiped, even when she is dry and not dirty at all.

At home Pippa has the run of the house and looks very comfortable curled up in an easy chair; her colour blends in well with the fabric of the chair, so well if fact you might not realise she is there. Although she has a basket and light duvet, Pippa will sleep anywhere including on the bed.

Pippa has a ‘tuggy’ rope and a soft elephant toy, but what she really likes is to play with a tennis ball. She will bring it to you and if you are seated, and not paying attention, she places it between your knees. You are expected to play.

Pippa thinks all dogs should play and chase her; she is in her element when the dogs from another Yorkshire village come to visit. The fun she has in the garden with Poppy, a Westie, and Morse, a black Labrador is hectic. However they will take time out to be photographed on the garden seat.

If you think that Pippa looks a bit tousled you should see her scamper in the snow and how her coat collects little snowballs which dangle from her fur.

For such a friendly dog you may find it strange that she is not keen on being cuddled unless that is there is something she is not sure about.

Pippa’s identity tag, in addition to her name and telephone number in case she’s lost, also contains a request ‘Please scan me.’ This will let people know that Pippa is micro-chipped as well. If you meet her you would understand why you would want to take her home with you. Perhaps it is appropriate that she is fed on dry mix by James Wellbeloved.

When anyone approaches the house called ‘Pippins’ she will be heard to bark and will be seen dashing along the inside of the front bay window. Is it a warning or just her saying that she is ready to play?

No, she’s making sure you know that this Cockerpoo is Lady Pippa of Pippins.

{Last of series to be transferred from the old site - new dogs to follow in future months}

Dogs of Troy

An illustrated story where the photos are as important as the text. It was a bit of an experiment when I wrote it a couple of years ago.Please let me know what you think. It first appeared on a Writelink blog

Dogs of Troy

At the beginning we were just two of a litter of yellow Labrador puppies. In those days it was a case of ‘dog eat dog’ and ‘survival of the fittest’. We were the pick of the bunch!

We are brother and sister with the names of Sam and Max, or for those who prefer the softer option we will respond to Sammy and Maxie. Initially we were known as the yellow labs of Troy although our neighbours must have considered us to be descendants of The Plague Dogs; it was such fun living on an open housing development. Unfortunately this meant we were often tethered to a stake to stop us wandering off and chasing anything that moved in the vicinity. We were a handsome pair – far more so than Paris and Helen.

It was very difficult to say which was more comfortable; at least the grass was softer, but in the concrete jungle we were able to move around without the rope restricting where we could go.

Inside the house we each had a specially designed box and cage in which to sleep, and for play whenever our owners were out. This soon taught us not to mess upon the floor. It was great to try and get into the others cage and to resist being ousted by its owner. But why is someone else’s bed always softer and warmer than the cold linoleum floor?

Training to get fit and stronger was such fun, but our personal trainers often tired us out. That’s why after a workout we loved to sleep, on the carpet, in the sun watched over by our trainers.

Efforts were made to keep us in with doors blocked so effectively that we could not escape or so they thought.

But if you did it was lonely in that concrete jungle.

Together though once we were loose, we threatened any thing that moved, “Come closer and we pounce.”

We have been taken to all sorts of strange places just to socialise. We were not keen to be kept on leads. Even this could become a game in which we gave points to each other for how many times we could get entangled with legs, each other or pull our owners over. Roller skaters in the park did not like us and shrieked at us to get out of their way – anyone would think that they owned the paths. Apart from the blame we got if there was any damage. Honest, I didn't chew it.

Socialising had its ups and downs; there were even times when a reassuring pat was necessary to quell the fears that arose from other marauding dogs.

Maxi was not at all amused by those Canadian birds that refused to play, swam away or just ‘honked’ at us. However this was better than those big white birds with large flapping wings which didn’t honk but hissed most menacingly.

Consequently there were times when it was much better to stay at home and just snuggle up and dream about a pile of bones.

We went canoeing once and this was to be the start of Sam’s water phobia. He fell in and not knowing how to swim had to be rescued in a panic. We both believe that his fear of going into lakes and ponds, where the water comes above his knees, was started by this episode early in this thing they called socialising.
We were to learn there was not just one mad English woman – the one who looked after our needs and scolded us for our misdeeds. Every now and then the house would get an extra clean and we were warned to be on our best behaviour. The English from across the ‘big pond’ would arrive in one of those noisy machines that fly higher in the sky than any bird. They would take over playing with us; but how we wished ‘he’ wouldn’t sit in our favourite chair. We just had to fight him for it.

When it was hot it was better to spend some time in the shade,butSammy wished that Maxie would be more considerate in where she stuck her grass or did she forget the ‘gr…’?

With ‘her’ from England we had to take our turn in the sun or at ‘her’ knee – much more relaxing than fighting ‘him’!

When ‘he’ was digging in the garden where we weren’t allowed to bury bones, it wasn’t much fun just watching, so we didn't.

Anyway the smell from his gardening shoes was enough to make anyone fall asleep.

There wasn’t always sunny weather. At the time they called winter the ground became very hard and was covered with white stuff that came up to our bellies. And when it rained it rained bucketfuls that made us wet and we were meant to sit still while we were vigorously rubbed with a rough towel - which we were not meant to bite.

When him who was married to our mad English woman got involved in all sorts of projects that were called ‘do it yourself’ there was all sorts of upheaval.

You never knew what was going to happen next. They may have liked parquet flooring but you can’t even settle down to a decent siesta with ‘him’ from across the pond.

Once a year we were given special treats on our birthday. However we felt humiliated by what we had to do. What would they say if they were forced to wear balloons on theirs? We think the mad English woman gets away with it because she can’t find any clothes that match the ruddy things.

The time came when we heard that a move to somewhere in the country was being planned. It was most confusing; what was to happen to us we didn’t really know. Surely they couldn’t leave us here, could they? Now was the time to look appealing.

And just in case one of us had to learn to drive.

When the great day came and we were to leave to go to Oxford – that’s in Michigan and not the famous university across the pond in the country of ‘her’ and ‘him’ (that’s him who we had to fight for the chair) – to make sure we were not forgotten we nipped quickly inside the car as we didn’t think the trash cart would take us both. Anyway the cart driver only knew us as the ‘Yellow Labs of Troy’.

If you have liked our story, you have seen nothing yet! Wait till you get the chance to hear the tale of ‘The Deer Trail Hounds’!