Humbug hounds...

I always seem to begin blogs lately with "sorry about the delay in writing." It has been some time! 

We had a short stay in India which meant the hounds were at our wonderful dog boarder's house ( "Emmas Doghouse").  I always feel a sense of guilt leaving the hounds but I know that they are extremely well cared for. I do secretly hope that they might be a bit down in the dumps when they realise where they are going and that it may involve an over night stay. The reverse is in fact the case. Yes they are so sad to be leaving me that they are out of the car and pawing Emma's front door practically before we stop. Emma opens the front door to be met by the bungling buffoons charging their way into Emma's house to lay claim on the sofa. Sorry "Dad who?" 

Emma has her own basset "Madge" who is gorgeous. She is also a fraction of the size of  my two. I'm sure she sighs and thinks to herself  " there goes the sofa."

 Anyhow the mutts are now  back home currently enjoying the trappings of  Christmas. Monty appears to be reverting to puppy hood. He has begun to collect hats, gloves socks and anything he can grab and run off with. His most recent capture included some underwear. The most worrying aspect of his recent theft is that the offending pants are nothing to do with anyone in our house.We can only summise that they have blown from a neighbour's washing line. There is certainly no possibility of him having 'jumped up.' Given that his legs are about six inches long and his body is about twenty nine feet in length, he is not exactly built for high jumping. I did consider calling at our neighbour's houses, but the sight of a large chap holding some ( I think ladies) underwear asking "Excuse me are these yours?" may draw some adverse reactions. Monty has also developed an absolute obsession with cuddly toys. He waits until Lewis distracts small children and he gently withdraws and runs off with whatever he can get his teeth on. He is currently having staring competitions with a teddy that lives in the bedroom. 

Lewis is no angel either. He has always had an obsession with empty plastic bottles. If he finds one he carries it about for the rest of the walk like some plastic 'trophy.' Ordinarily this is fine and when he becomes bored with it I end up putting someone else's rubbish in  the bin. One of the 'boys' walks involves walking around a huge park that encompasses three or four football pitches ( soccer to our American cousins!). The football season in the UK is now at full tilt. Weekends in this park usually see at least two games on at once and usually young lads of about 10/11 years old. True to their idols they wear the same designer boots and tracksuits and all have 'designer' energy drinks. They casually discard these to the side line so that during breaks in play they can grab said expensive 'fitness' liquids and quench their thirst. Lewis recently discovered this. He was in basset bottle heaven. He had no idea that they weren't actually finished and decided he could wander off with whatever 'trophy' he saw fit in his slobbery basset mouth. I hadn't actually realised this until a recent walk. Both boys are always off the lead when I can and wander behind me at their own pace. The first I knew was a shrill "oi oi oi." Looking round saw Lewis charging toward me. I have to say that even he looked a little startled. His eyes were wide open and Lewis was actually running. Clasped  in Lewis's jaw's was a well known designer bottle drink that was a distinct yellow colour. I know that because it was half full. Behind Lewis I saw what I can only describe as a posse. A posse of 11 year old boys in tracksuits pursuing Lewis. Lewis who had just nicked their designer squash. Lewis stood his ground...well sort of. He actually stood behind me peering between my legs at his pursuers. If he could say "gulp" I'm sure he was. Eventually the 'posse' made it to where I was standing with my less than brave basset.

"Oi mister your dog nicked my drink." 

"And mine" said another squeaky boy's voice at the back.

"Boys I am so sorry he thinks that they have been thrown away."

I prised the bottle from Lewis ( who was still very reluctant to give it up). I held it out toward the posse and offered it back to the owner(s).

The offending article was now slightly squashed. It was also covered in basset slobber.If you had just emerged from the desert without water for seven days you would still have been reluctant to drink this. In fact if it was the last soft drink on earth you would have given it a wide berth...

"Nah he can keep it" said the posse leader.

"Sorry boys" I said again meekly.

Lewis picked up the bottle once again. I am sure I could here him laughing....

I PROMISE I will not leave it as long!  ,