Perfection - Italy on a sunny summer morning.

Anyone who has more 'mature' dogs will know the morning walk routine. A mad rush out of the front door followed by a quick sprint down the road and then a slow gentle,middle aged, amble back. I call it our morning 'rosh' - rush out, saunter home. I reckon that the walk up the hill ( at young dog speed ) takes us ten minutes and the walk back ( at mature dog speed ) half an hour. This rate of progress certainly doesn't give me a good cardio workout but Digby's hips aren't as good as they used to be and we all adopt a pace that fits in with him- I worry a bit about the sudden rate of deterioration in his rear quarters. Although he's only just over eight years old, violent exercise seems to take its toll on him. His big brother of course is built like a bulldozer and would rush around at high speed all day so the trick is making sure the little one doesn't get over tired while the big one gets enough exercise to keep the weight off.

This morning we walked up to the sun flower fields. The boyz love walking through them - from a dogs perspective it must be like going through the rain forest with tall stems reaching to the sky in every direction. Somewhere on the journey home the two troubadors found an old soft ball - by the time we were home the stuffing was spilling out of it and it had morphed from being a ball into a health hazard. Wilf is pretty good - he let's his little brother have the occasional turn at savaging it.

It's heart breaking to see that eight more British youngsters have fallen in Afghanistan. It's proving to be a bloody week. I wish the government would take the time to explain why we're there. Is it because we don't want Al Qaeda to turn the country into a base to undermine the whole region , or is it because if Afghanistan collapses Pakistan can't be very far behind? If it's ethically justified countries like Britain and the US have a moral duty to expend blood and treasure for the greater good , but the number of fatalities in Afghanistan have now overtaken those in the Iraq war.

Ready for the new day

Another day, another set of adventures. Wilf and Digby greeted the new day with whoops of joy as they charged down the track to the village. I always used to think that a dogs repertoire of noises was restricted to barking. Not these two. Wilf who used to be the strong, silent type has belatedly joined his little brother in making all sorts of breathless squeaking noises when he gets excited.These vary in pitch and intensity depending on just how overwraught with delight he is. Discovery of a lizard occassions a mid level squeak, chasing a rabbit produces a combination of rumblings and squeaks, and greeting us on our return from a trip generates a cacophony of noises that make it sound as if he is being tortured with cattle prods. It goes without saying that Polish Lowland Sheepdogs don't make good hunting dogs - any prey can hear them coming a mile off.

I trimmed their hair again yesterday. Their ears were dragging in the water bowl when they drank so action was long overdue. We have now come to some form of human - canine agreement over grooming. In return for standing still for 2 minutes they will receive a hide chew - it seems to work well, even if it does mean that their grooming occurs 'little and often'.

Brothers

No need to be worried about thunder and lightning when your big brother is near.

The thunderstorm.

The font of all knowledge is away in France celebrating July 4th with American friends. My comments that July 4th isn't a Scottish holiday and that France is a strange place to go to for an American holiday were met with a certain froideur. Anyway, in my partners absence I have been able to revert to my standard caveman like status and am contentedly wandering around in shorts and bare feet.

Last night we had a thunderstorm of such ferocity that the lights went out and the house rocked and shook with the bangs and roars of the storm. The atmospherics seemed to be situated directly overhead our little patch of paradise. Digby, who god bless him, is not the bravest of beasts was joined to me at the ankle. Everywhere I went, he went. At dinner time he simply refused to come out to eat on the porch and sat immovable and miserable under the kitchen counter.

In Scotland thunderstorms are pootling wee affairs. If my high school memory of meteorology serves me well you need at least one mass of warm air colliding with cold air to make an electrical storm . In Scotland there are many moving masses of air but they tend to be cold, indeed very cold, and as a result what electric storms there are tend to be rather tame. In contrast French thunderstorms are amongst the best. They roar and growl for hours on end as the warm air from the coast or centre comes barging into the cool air from the mountains.

When we were living in the south of France the two boyz had their first taste of real storms. Wilf always sleeps through them ( although even he was a little alarmed by some of last nights bone jarring bangs ) but Digby finds them simply terrifying.We have always felt it best not to give him extra attention during a storm in case it reinforces his phobias. On our second night in the new house in France we were congratulating ourselves on how well the two troubadors had settled in after the three day journey in the back of the car from Scotland. After we turned in for the night a huge storm blew up accompanied by strange banshee wailings from the wind. I woke up in the small hours from a deep sleep knowing that something wasn't quite right. In my half awake state it felt as if the the top of my head was covered in a thick,soft, warm blanket. And then the blanket moved. Thinking it was a snake or something equally dangerous I sat bolt upright in bed and hollered at the top of my voice.The font of all knowledge roused by the screaming leapt out of bed in the dark, demolishing a bed side light in the process. Switching on the lights we came face to face with an equally startled looking Digby who now completely terrified and convinced that his worst fears had come true, promptly emptied his bladder. Tested to the limit by the lightning and thunder he had somehow managed to stealthily get into the bedroom, climb on the bed and nestle down in the safest place he could find in the gap on the pillows between the headboard and the top of my head. The joys of dogs!

Just like Nova Scotia

At the end of May I suggested to the font of all knowledge that we think of going on holiday to Canada for a week or so to get away from the heat - we find the country friendly,efficient, clean,with interesting wine,surprisingly good food and a laid back sense of fun. After much discussion we thought we might try Nova Scotia for the first time or go back to Vancouver which we know and like. The Canadian tourist board was gloriously efficient and a large envelope of cheerful material extoling the benefits of Halifax and Victoria Island promptly arrived a week later. I've never seen so many brochures showing happily suntanned families eating lobster against a backdrop of azure blue skies and lighthouses. Well,yesterday Nova Scotia came to Italy ( or at least its weather ) and decided to stay. After a glorious start the weather took a turn for the worse around noon and then went rapidly downhill. By two o'clock it was a chilly 17 degrees and then the rain ,thunder and lightning started. Digby , who is not keen on atmospheric disturbances spent most of the afternoon trying to make himself invisible under the bed. He graciously decided to emerge at dinner time but kept in close proximity to his 'folks'. This morning we awoke to a thick,impenetrable blanket of fog which is my idea of what life on the Nova Scotian coast in February must be like. The boyz are not impressed.

There was a huge wedding in the village yesterday. I felt so sorry for the young couple and their respective families

- the rain just came down and down in constant grey waves soaking bride and groom and the vast array of bridesmaids. Looking back at the diary entries for the end of June last year and the year before I see that the temperatures were in the high 30's and aridly dry , so quite where this weather has come from is anyones guess. Let's hope it goes quickly.

Another restless night

We were up again with Digby and his upset tummy in the early hours of the morning. The poor little thing was moaning away through the night and eventually scratched at the front door to be let out. Surprisingly, Wilf has shown no signs of discomfort or reaction to the shots at all. If I can only think of a way of missing the rabies shots next year while maintaining the pet passports.

The weather this morning is glorious, so the two boyz have had a morning walk and are now settling down under the pine trees for a morning of inactivity. It's eight thirty local time and already the mercury is showing 24 degrees. We have decided to use the good weather to touch up the paintwork on the house . It is now beginning to look a little battered and faded after a year of extreme temperatures. All the paint brushes seem to have disappeared so there was an early morning drive into town to the local hardware store with the requisite halt at the local bar to catch up on all the news. On our way back from the bar we were stopped twice. Firstly, by an old retired sea captain who has a house in the village. He gave us two kilos of gloriously red freshly picked cherries - they taste simply wonderful when they've just come off the tree. Then we were flagged down by the local farmers wife who had been collecting the eggs from her hens - we now have four fresh eggs to have for breakfast.

Time for a walk after breakfast.

The sun is back after the wet Hebridean weather of the last week. We used the cooler temperatures that yesterday brought to get the house into order and finish off the work in the olive groves. The gardener came for three hours in the late afternoon and surprised us by saying that there was nothing else to be done in the grounds until September - I gently tried to suggest that weeding might be an option but only received a grunt in reply.

As part of our new lifestyle we are doing everything we can to be environmentally friendly and reduce our carbon footprint . By habit we turn off lights that aren't in use, have installed energy efficient LED light, only run the dish washer when absolutely full,and follow a whole host of other common sense measures - despite all of this our energy usage is only down 17% in volume terms from last years levels. If we are to get real about climate change we'll need to rethink our strategy. It would be good to cut our emissions by about a third but without losing all the pleasures of 21st century living.

The sore on Digby's foot seems to be getting worse again. The vet doesn't think it's a seed that's worked its way into the skin so it must be some form of bite. We've been bathing it in hot salty water but over the last three or four days the swelling seems to have come back - not that it seems to bother him much.

Digbys thought of the day: " Not all those who wander are lost ".

Dishevelled dogs return from their morning walk

We actually had some clouds this morning which enabled us to do a couple of hours work outside before it got too hot. Digby is feeling very sorry for himself with his sore paw and the after effects of the injection. However, his usual 'I've never been fed in my life give me a rice cake' routine is cutting no ice and he is on half rations and zero treats in an attempt to reduce his weight.The problem is that with his sore paw he is barely ambulatory and I can't see him getting much stomach flattening exercise until it's healed up. Suggestions on dieting techniques greatfully received!

The ninth day in a row with the newspapers in the UK exposing the crass venality of our elected politicians. Yet another Member of Parliament has been exposed for claiming for a non-existent mortgage. The whole affair is banal but has generated a widespread anger with the ruling 'elite' that I've not witnessed before - a bit like Tom DeLay and the 2006 (or was it 2007?) Congress. The gravy train attitude of many politicians seems to have aroused the ire of a nation that believes that it is basically unfair for MP's to be living the high life while many of their fellow citizens are facing penury in the recession. I only hope frustration with the existing parties doen't allow the extremist organizations to do well at the polls for the European Parliament in June - once they get 10% of the vote under proportional representation they are eligible for state funding.

Digby's reflection of the day upon returning from the vet : " Fall seven times,stand up eight ".

Digby has returned from the vet having had his paw dressed and cleaned - it was probably a scorpion sting. Horror of horrors during the examination the vet said that he is unacceptably overweight (24 kilos) and is to be put on a diet in order to lose 3 kilos. I naturally got the blame for the little darlings weight gain as I am supposedly always slipping him snacks - or so the vet was told .The parallels drawn between my middle age spread and Digby's were I thought quite uncalled for . It's fortunate I don't have a thin skin. Thankfully, it has not been suggested that I go on a diet or take up exercise so Digby will need to face the new regimen on his own.I'm waiting for someone to suggest that I scale my weight back in line with Digby.

Off to the vets

A couple of weeks ago Digby developed a large sore on his front paw - it could have been a grass seed that had worked its way into his paw or a bite from a bee, a small scorpion or possibly even a snake. We've been diligently washing it in hot salty water twice a day and then applying tea tree lotion to calm it down. This morning he didn't want to get up, walked around the house with his head down, and then to let us know he was really unhappy he refused to get out of his bed to come with his brother on the morning romp. That's serious. Thank heavens we have a wonderful lady vet. She has agreed to see him before surgery this morning so we're all packing up and heading off in the car. Children can tell you what hurts.With dogs it's a much more intuitive process trying to determine what is merely an off day and what could potentially be a problem. When one of the family clowns is sick everyone knows!

Digby's thought of the day :" If you judge people, you have no time to love them".

Digby's thought of the day:"Don't be afraid that your life will end,be afraid that it will never begin!"

Time to explore

Who in their right mind would have white long coated dogs? Leave the little darlings alone for two minutes and they reappear streaked,coated,matted and unkempt. It may have something to do with that deep rooted canine ability to find the muddiest part of the garden and choose that as their play spot of choice. For Wilf and Digby the arrival of the builders has opened up myriad new ways of having muddy dog fun. The tractors and fork lifts parked out in front of the house ( where they seem to have taken up permanent residence in the notable absence of the builders ) provide an excellent opportunity to find damp earth to roll in and dig. Today will be a major bath day in an attempt to redistribute some of the accreted mud that has formed on them over the last three weeks.

Here in Italy the top news story is the ongoing battle between the Prime Minister and his wife. Mrs.Berlsuconni has again written to the newspapers drawing attention to the upset caused to her peace of mind by her husbands wandering eye and penchant for promoting young ladies to his cabinet based on looks rather than experience.Anywhere else in Euope dirty washing of this kind would be a huge scandal - here it helps cement his popularity in the polls as a regular guy. All those killjoys who believe that the bureaucrats in Brussels will one day harmonize us all into pasteurised , standardized Europeans forget the cultural differences that exist in this little continent.

Digby's reflection of the day : " It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else's eyes".

Out by six this morning - another of those wonderful Italian days with the sun already on your face , not a cloud in the sky and the gentlest murmur of a breeze. If ever you want to come to Italy the months straddling late April/early May and late September/early October are the times to come - no hoardes of tourists, no oppressive heat, and no queues. The boyz were on leads this morning to keep them out of the long grass where the vipers have been spotted by the builders. They both seemed to enjoy the security of being walked rather than running wild. It's a national holiday here today - Liberation Day - so everything is closed.

Digby's musing for the day : Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers,pray for powers equal to your tasks

The builders have had enough ....

After a morning of happily getting under everyones feet the two boyz are now indoors... and not being allowed out. Despite our worries that they might have been traumatised after last weeks robbery, they seem to have settled back into their friendly and inquisitive ways. This has made it difficult for the builders to get anything done without the active participation and involvement of either Wilf or Digby,or both. No hole can be dug or earth shovelled without the two of them wanting to enthusiastically see what has been going on.Even the most placid of builders tires with throwing the ball for them after two or three hours of constant interruptions. As we want the new metal grill security doors firmly in place before nightfall the boyz have now been consigned to the house for the duration-a state of affairs they are decidely unhappy about.

Digby - sometimes the world just looks so big

The porcupines have been out en masse overnight digging holes, eating bulbs and making their strange grunt like noises- Wilf has been out barking at them for the last hour. Digby, who is an altogether more sensitive soul, has settled down under a tree to review his options for the day. With Digby you have the feeling that he's thinking 'sometimes the world can look so big'. Did a quick run to the supermarket this morning in Perugia. At last we've found a chain that would stand muster as a supermarket in France or the UK so we will shift our weekly shop there. On the road,despite having lived here for 3 years now,continue to be amazed at the way Italian drivers will come up within inches of your rear fender and then pull in directly in front of you when they overtake.There must be some cultural rationale for it - but so far the logic behind it escapes me. You are said to be five times more likely to have an accident on the roads here than you are north of the Alps.

Digby oblivious to the fact he is blocking the tractors

Digby stoically facing the arctic wind