Viggo's Haiku on Gina

decrepit old dog

farting in your soft basket

wish you would cuddle

(this is not my photo; I found it floating around in cyberspace)

In the Wetlands We Celebrate Animal Day Today.

October 4th used to be a magical day!

We would buy treats for our dog and cats, and as a girl I used to put a ribbon around the neck of my favourite cat Bobbie (we had 3 at the time), which he would graciously allow to be there for a while, until he'd had enough and got rid of it.

Our other animals would get treats as well; we gave the 7 goats water crackers, which they adored, and the chickens would get endive.

Nowadays I only have one cat and one dog around the house.

But today still is a special day for the cat, as we got our Viggo from the shelter exactly four years ago.

He has the best life imaginable, with a large garden, plenty of food, loving people and personnel to open doors for him. Not bad eh, for an alley cat?

Thomas O'Malley the Alley Cat

So, to celebrate today, I'll leave you with some of my favourite animal photos.

Thank you for caring for your animals.

Digging for Gold? Gina the Tunneler.

We have had our dog for almost 10 years now. And she's sweet, absolutely. But she has this annoying habit: she digs up the flowerbeds.

Now obviously I know many (most?) dogs dig. They like to make themselves a cosy nest for sleeping in. And I remember our first Dalmatian dog digging holes underneath my Mum's beloved roses (alongside those dug by the chickens, by the way). 

But Gina doesn't dig her bed, she just...digs. Huge holes. And afterwards she comes in all muddy and flops down on the parquet all happy. And I go into the garden with dismay, and view yet another Hydrangea bush dug up, or my lovely Echinacea covered in earth.

She started in a small way, a couple of years ago, in the bed between the back and side garden, and we forgave her, for she had found the tunnel of a vole who obviously lived underneath that bed. We even praised her, I remember, clever girl, that will show that vole!

But then the small hole got bigger, and deeper, and we were certain that the vole had moved on ages before, and she dug up all my tulip bulbs in the process.

So we put up wire netting, to protect the bulbs and to stop her. She simply tore out the netting. Then we tried chaining her up when we weren't around to stop her. She howled. So now we try to keep an eye on her when she goes into the garden.

And as long as our eye is on her, she is innocence itself, simply snoozing in the sun or dozing in the shade, nowhere near a flowerbed, in fact.

And then, as soon as our attention lags, she is at it again. No way that she is digging for mice or voles (we hardly have any left anyway, with Viggo hunting them mercilessly) - and the holes get more numerous and bigger every time.

Did A Knooppunten Test - and it was wonderful!

Good afternoon, all you cyclists and other readers!
Last night I did a test drive to see whether that whole knooppunten theory of mine (= you can cycle all around the Wetlands even if you have sense of direction of precisely 0%) works.

I'm very happy to be able to tell you that YES! - it works perfectly!

Even for such a notorious 'lost-my-way' person as myself (I was once lost in London for more than 6 hours, resulting in angry phone calls to my boss about where on earth those ordered bouquets were), it is an easy to follow method.

(Um...about those 6 hours in London: do you know how many High Roads there are in London?! I ended up crying near Shepherds Bush and then after another 1 1/2 hours turned the car around when I saw a road sign pointing towards the North Circular...at least I recognised that. Those bouquets were subsequently delivered by my extremely pissed-off boss himself. Who was also my partner. It was complicated)

So...I started from home (obviously), and my first knooppunt was number 48. By looking at the very thoughtfully provided map, I could then plan my route, cycling from point to point. It seems a bit illogical at times, for instance when you are at 34 and the next one you need is 11, but it works, it absolutely works!

Relieved from the nagging thought that I would probably get lost even though this is my home turf, I could enjoy the landscape around me.

I cycled along pretty dykes I had never been at before...and I have lived here for the last 27 years; it was an eye-opener.

As it was early evening, the hares were out in force...I spotted more than a dozen along the way. And I saw a family of partridges, as well as quite a few pheasants. And the usual cows, horses, goats, geese and sheep of course, there's no getting away from them around here.

Just after I had left the village of Tinte (nothing amazing to add about the village of Tinte, sorry, except that they have a village festival every Summer where they drink themselves silly for a week) I passed a wooden fence and there it was: a huge gorgeous buzzard. It sat there, contemplating Life. Or digesting something. Anyway, it just sat there watching me watching it.

Immediately I had this dream about how that buzzard would fly to my fist, and that I would ride and stride triumphantly home, carrying my buzzard friend for life. I tried ESP. But it simply continued to sit on the fence. So I rode on.

(No, not that buzzard...this is a photo I found on the web. It probably isn't even a buzzard. And it has copyright, see? So if and when I ever to get to make some money from this blog...I'll be philosophical about it)

Only a km after my encounter with the bird of prey I saw a young man being instructed in how to drive sheep. A small herd of 8 lovely exotic sheep (not a native Dutch race, I mean) was being herded around traffic cones in a small meadow with the aid of a long staff and a border collie. It was immediately apparent to me that the collie was more experienced than the young man. Whenever a sheep would start to wander off, it would start to quiver, all the time looking from the sheep to the man and aching for an instruction. ESP worked fine this time. I got strong thought patterns screaming "hey! dude! that sheep should be snapped back into group! hey! for crying out loud, give me the command to go get it!!!!".

It was entertaining, that's for certain. After watching the dog get more and more frustrated, and eventually disobeying the command to lie down, it raced around the herd instead and drove those 8 into a tiny mount of wool, I rode on, silently cheering the collie. Well done, girl!

The remainder of my 25 km passed without anything of interest. The sun sank behind the bank of cloud introducing the end of our amazing 4 weeks of wonderful sunny Summer weather.

My butt hurt, a bit. I need to build up tougher skin there (Frith knows it's big enough), that's for sure! But I felt great.

Got you a nice photo, courtesy of the web. (My Samsung only takes mediocre pics)

Plants boring? No way! They soothe the soul.

Good morning to you, how lovely to see you on this wonderful Spring day!
The sun is out, my back door is opened as wide as can be (thus I am sitting typing this with a t-shirt, 2 vests and my thickest jersey on, but hey...it's Spring!) and I've just returned from a morning sniff with Gina.

And I thought it might be fun to 'take you along' on my walk, so to speak.

We start out in my back garden. Just so:

Then we turn left, and attempt to enter the community park. I say attempt, for Gina likes a nice loooooooooooong sniff here...

We walk straight ahead, and in fact leave the park again, and cross over to the cycle path which leads to our neighbouring village of Oudenhoorn.

The nettles (non-stinging) are very early this year. When Gina feels the need to squat here, I have time to take a photo. A win-win.

We walk along the path, and turn right at the nudist camp (honestly! They must be so cold), and turn right again onto the Noordse Molenweg.

As far as I know this is the only piece of unpaved public road left in Hellevoetsluis, and it is the border between Hellevoetsluis and Oudenhoorn. At the end, we turn right again (yep, you've guessed it, we are walking in a circle :)

A selfie to prove I was there.

Gina is still sniffing as if her life depends on it, and I am getting cold (it is 8 degrees C), so I drag her along and we turn right into the park and cross a 'meadow'. Vigilance here, for both other dogs and their offerings.

And hey presto, we are back at the back garden gate.

My first action is to put the greenhouse door ajar.

My tulips are coming along nicely, don't you think?

And have a look at the other beauties in our garden!

And this is only the beginning! 

This period, the end of March, always lifts my spirit. It's a better boost than wine (and lasts longer and doesn't give you a headache). And usually March is wintry still, with icy winds. But this year we've had no Winter to speak of, and nature is 4 weeks early with everything. That is a nice (climate?) change.

How is your garden coming along? Post me a picture of it, it is allowed you know!

I wish you a great weekend. Have fun, sniff the fresh air (if you have some) and enjoy yourself!

Misty Morning Walk in the Copse

BBbbrrrrrr! It's cold out! 
I woke up to a freezing house, and saw that the world was white. No, not snowy white, but misty white. And after a gloriously sunny Spring week, it was 5 degrees, so back into my winter coat to walk Gina.

It was a struggle. Mist makes her want to sniff every tuft of grass, every molehill, every tree stump, every dog turd.

So I let her do just that, and took the time to take some misty copse photographs for you.

I told you about our copse, didn't I? It isn't large, only 17 acres, and full of poplars and some oaks and cherries. And one beech; the grave of our beloved Freya.

Around the pond there are willows, both small ones that get cropped every year, and large ones that get left alone. 

And bordering the walking routes are cherries, currants, dogwoods and hawthorns.

Gina knows every inch. So do we. We warned our kids never to go there alone when they were small, and I do not go alone in the dark, for unfortunately it gets used intensively by the part of Hellevoetsluis youth you do not want to meet after sundown.

There were times when I was part of a group of people 'managing' this copse, together with the official manager, which is Staatsbosbeheer. But frustration about the total lack of interest of my fellow suburbanites made me quit after four years. It's heartbreaking when you work and lobby hard to get benches and then see them destroyed within the week by yobbos. 

The March violets underneath the cherries always make me happy. We planted a small tuft of these years ago, and they have spread and spread. Lovely!

We've planted 1000 narcissii  bulbs with our group, and they are still around. This year they have been mostly left alone, but we have had years when they were all destroyed... I do not understand young people sometimes, even though I spend my working life among them.

The butterfly plants behind the flowers were planted by a fellow guerilla gardener. We sometimes meet him in the gloaming, armed with his spade and young butterfly plants.

Gina having fun underneath the catkins. 

A spider used the dogwood branches to make a perfect web.

I'll leave you with some of the flowers from my garden. Sweet, eh?

Have a good day!

Meanwhile in Sunny Hellevoetsluis...

SUN!
Glorious, happy, wonderful, beautiful sun!

Took Gina for a walk in the meadows this morning, and asked her to pose for me...which she refused. My dog has her moods, I tell you! Still, she enjoyed herself tremendously, she even ran a couple of times. The tiny yellow flowers are called 'speenkruid'  and are the first wild flowers to appear around our parts. They always lift my spirits.

So I took a turn around my garden, and look what I saw:

How do you like my selfie? Viggo always follows me around and watches what I watch. I'm always waiting for him to comment, he is that attentive. 

So what are the plans for today?

Well, I will get on my bike and cycle to the mall, for my daughter wants to go shopping. And being the loving Mum that I am, I will tear myself away from my gardening to do just that.

Have a great Sunday! I'll leave you with a poem I found floating around in cyberspace.

A Long Overdue Tale: our first dog was amazing.

You either love dogs, or you don't. 
I have never met anyone who said: 'yeah, dogs are okay, but I can take'em or leave'em, really, I may as well have an armadillo'.

No. You are a dog person. Or you are not.
I am a dog person as well as a cat person. People tell me that's impossible, but it's true. I adore and respect my cat, and I love my dog.

Freya, 3 months old.

So this story is long overdue. For I have told you tales about Gina, our stray from Turkey, who we have for 10 years now (and not 8; I realised this when I uploaded the last batch of photos for you). But I have not yet told you about Freya, our first dog.

Freya

Freya was a Drentsche Patrijshond, a Drent for short. We only have 2 proper Dutch breeds, and a Drent is one of them. All the other dogs are imported.
When we wanted a dog, we looked for character and posture. We wanted a retriever, it had to be a swimmer, and it had to be a outdoorsy type of dog, like ourselves. The fact that the Drent is a friendly dog, only persuaded us faster to go for this Dutch breed.

We went to a proper breeder (at least, that's what we thought) and picked a little bitch from a litter of 6. She was adorable, with a  fat pink tummy and keen eyes. We took her home in the car, and introduced her to our old cat Saartje, who immediately jumped up on the linen cabinet and refused to come down for days.
Freya wasn't house trained yet, so we took the advice from someone who said to know about these things, and put newspaper all over the kitchen. Hence our cute little doggie believed she could pee in the kitchen, and has kept up this belief for all of her 15 years!
That was mistake number 1.
Mistake number 2 was the breeder. What we didn't know, was that our expensive dog had come to us with a tummy bug. She needed treatment which nearly cost us the dog plus hundreds of guilders. But she pulled through. Because we were afraid she wouldn't survive, we took her up to our bedroom. That was mistake number 3, for she never wanted to sleep anywhere else but next to us again.

The best dog in the world

Did we regret this dog? No way! She was sweet, friendly, cute, funny, curious and a fast learner. A Drent always brings you something when you come home, retrieving is in their genes, and after an embarrassing episode when my new boss dropped by to bring me some urgent letters to type, we quickly learned not to leave our dirty underwear lying about the house.
She defended our home, and thought it her duty to keep me from harm. Whenever a man came to visit us, or to repair something, she would always stand between us, and when he crossed an invisible line, she would growl softly. I have seen big, macho colleagues of mine reduced to little shivering heaps on the couch, unable to move from it because Freya would posture herself in front of them and just stare. Nothing else.
We took her everywhere, and could, for she behaved impeccably. In restaurants, she would move under the table and stay there. She went on trains, on buses, on boats (she loved to swim and was a good sailor), and her speciality was sitting in a little cart my husband would tie behind his bike. We cycled all over France, Germany and Switzerland with her in this manner, and people would stop and point.

When our son was born, she became even more protective, and would guard him around the clock. She allowed everything: he could pull her ears, and poke her eyes, and crawl all over her, and she even let him eat from her bowl.

The same with our daughter, although by then Freya was quite old and hard of hearing, and had cataracts. But she would allow to be dressed in hats and scarves, and pulled the sled when it snowed.

Both kids shared the cycle cart with her.

When we did our research, all the books said a Drent will become 10, or 12 if you are really lucky.

Our Freya reached 15 years. In the end she was deaf as well as blind and incontinent. My husband spent months on a mattress next to her basket, so he could take her outside in the night if she needed to go.

How do you explain that you have such a bond with your dog? Only other people with that same bond understand.

When she was in pain (she had bowel cancer), we took her to the vet, who put her to sleep. Then we took her home, and buried her in her favourite spot in the wood, and planted a beech next to her grave. Hers is the only beech in an acre of poplars, so we can always find her.

The best dog ever.