Beau Smells Trouble

Norbury Wharf, Shropshire Union Canal

There's a certain pattern to the start of my day....it's been honed to perfection during my time on the boat, and Dad hasn't been the easiest of people to train; but I'm getting there.

It's my duty to get everybody up and about,..... whether they want to or not.
If Dad pretends to be asleep, even though its gone 5:00 in the morning, then a lick on the elbow, or the foot will normally be enough to stir things up..- failing that, a cold wet nose applied to his anatomy will generally do the trick.

After I have breakfasted heartily on dried biscuits, mixed with low-priced, low-pork, low-taste sausages, it's time to leave the ship....or as Mum puts it, "Get him out from under my feet", ...I think that she's talking about Dad, but I'm not really sure.

Out on the Towpath, (so called because it's where dogs tow their owners along), and it's time to pick up my P-mail, leave replies and do a bit of waste-disposal.
Being well-trained, Dad always picks up behind me, predictably saying " Good grief Beau, what HAVE you been eating?"

I take the view, "Well, you're the one that fed it to me.....it's low-priced, low-pork, low-taste lookalike sausages...You know what they say, Rubbish in, Rubbish out, so what do you expect?"

At this point, we would normally return to the boat, but today, I was getting a sniff of something rather interesting a bit further up the track....something that had to be investigated.
Dad didn't really want to go any further, his mind was already on toast, peanut butter and a hot cup of tea on the boat, but such considerations are as nothing to the curious collie................

Dad called me, (I think), and started back to the boat. I adopted the cunning disguise of the half-deaf  sheepdog which has served me so well in the past, and carried on towards the distant, inviting smell.

When I got there, I have to admit, I couldn't really work out quite what it was. It certainly smelled nice, it was a greenish, yellowy, brown-black lump of stuff that reminded me of Dad's experiment with Curried Faggots..........

Dad was still heading back to the boat, so it was no use waiting for him to come and identify it....I didn't have anything to carry it back in, so what else could I do but smear a bit under my chin, round my ears, on my back and under my collar..........
Having made sure that I had a good sample, I ran back and caught up with Dad just as he got to the boat.

He looked at me, turned up his nose, and his eyes began to water......He grabbed me by the collar to stop me getting on the boat.......
"OH BEAU!!...What in heavens name have you rolled in!!!!"

I thought, " Well, now you've got it all over your hands, You tell me"..........

I don't think we've heard the last of this episode...

xx Beau

Beau and The Silence of The Lambs

Tewkesbury, River Avon

We've had to leave Evesham.

Since the episode of The Phantom Spaniel, I've developed a bit of a twitch when the hedge rustles, and I suffer from separation anxiety when I can't see my food-bowl.
Dad said that if we didn't move, then he'd have to take me to Harley Street..........My God!..they've even named a road after him!!!!

So, on the run again - another 3 days on the river and we've parked in a town where our river, going down, meets another river, also going down. I can't help but feel that one decent-sized river would have been better.

Anyway, the day after we arrived, Dad took me along the road to a place called The Ham. He said it was called that because, in the old days, they used to keep pigs on it;....but now............my word!...it's full of sheep, hundreds of them, as far as the eye can see.
Dad just said 'There you are boy, what do you think of that lot'........WHAT DO I THINK!!!!....
Listen, I've seen that telly program 'One Dog and His Man', they only use about half a dozen really old stunt sheep that have done a deal with the sheepdogs to go through a few fences and stuff, whilst some old guy, who has to lean on a stick, tries to whistle through his false teeth, and keeps shouting things like 'Awee!', and 'Lidoon!', and 'Coom Buy!'.

Now, I've got a rough idea what to do, but with this lot?........please....................

My Collie intuition told me not to look at the whole thing, but to break the problem down into bite-size-chunks, and deal with that.

So I spotted a group of about a dozen or so sheep that looked like they might like to play, so I crept forward and gave them 'The Collie Eye'.
This is where the inate power of the sheepdog is used to dominate and control the sheep in order to do his bidding. What normally happens to sheep given 'The Eye', is that one or two of them will give the alarm and they will attempt to run.........which means that 'The Chase' is on....

Except that these sheep didn't......
    
Didn't sound the alarm
            Didn't scatter to the four winds
                   Didn't stop eating grass
                            Didn't care less..........................

Barking, standing on tip-toe to look big, rolling on the ground whilst balancing an orange squeaky ball on the nose.....................nothing impressed these sheep.

Maybe Dad will learn to whistle, and get me some old 'TV Stunt Sheep' to play with for Christmas.....

XX Beau

Beau gives them 'The Eye'

Beau and The Phantom Spaniel

Evesham Marina, River Avon

The days of climbing ladders to go to bed are over.....After what seems an age, (only 5 days actually), Dad's bottom is now apparently sufficiently coated in black paint that it will not rust or leak for the next 4 years.......
Personally, I can't see the difference, but Mum says that she can when she looks at it from a certain angle!!

With things getting back to what I call normal, I've had a lot more time to relax and become attuned to my surroundings.
It was whilst I was 'attuning' on my day-bed, that I first thought I saw the rear-end of a Springer Spaniel disappearing through a hole in the hedge, near the front of the boat.
I didn't see it again that day, and put it down to a trick of the light.
However, the next day, there was a distinct rustling in the bushes, and though I admit that I wasn't at the peak of my alertness, I would have sworn that I saw the shape of a Spaniel, silhouetted against the fence.....but again, it didn't reappear; although on my excursions later in the day, I definitely caught the unmistakeable whiff of Spaniel near to one of my p-mail sites.

Nothing happened for a couple of days after that, so I naturally assumed that I had been mistaken, which, I guess is why I let my guard drop just a little.......because the following day, I almost, definitely, possibly, might have seen the Spaniel shape once more, outlined against the fence,... but this time I was ready....

                         Off the boat......head down......tail up.......nose in search mode...............
There was definitely something there......in the hedge, moving steadily and with great purpose.

So, into the 'Collie-crouch', head down, bum up, cunningly concealed behind a blade of grass...the perfect ambush position!!

It's all about stealth, cunning, and great patience you know.... You don't learn it; the Border Collie is born with it...at one with Nature, and Master of the waiting game........so I waited, and I waited...................

Being a master of the stealthy ambush, I am also quick to realise that if the trap is not sprung after an hour, then something has gone wrong.
Was the blade of grass too small, did my ears give it away, was the smell of 'eau-de-fox' dabbed under the collar a bit too much ???

Either way, it was getting late, and the Inner Dog needed to be fed, so it was a somewhat sad return to the boat, but with the prospect of tucking into the remains of my chicken and biscuit breakfast to cheer me up.
...............Except that when I got there, not a scrap remained...........

The bowl?....licked clean and sparkling like new.
The plastic floor mat?...ditto. 
Under the kitchen units?...pristine...........

How he'd got from Stratford I don't know, but Harley had been....had hoovered up....and was gone.........

xx Beau

I was never there!!

The art of concealment!!

Beau and People in High Places

Evesham Marina, River Avon

I've hardly got over the shock of taking 4 months to get to London and back when Dad said that we were off again!!
If I heard him right, he said that he had to get his bottom painted black this week, or it would go rusty and start letting water in. Apparently getting it painted once every 4 years is sufficient to keep him watertight.

We left early in the morning, before even my mate Harley (the Springer Spaniel) had called into the boat to hoover up the last of my breakfast biscuits.
Despite our early departure, there were a couple of people about to wave us goodbye, which seemed a bit over-the-top when we were only going off to get Dad's bottom waterproofed.
There were loads more people around when we went under the bridge into town. This time they were pointing at me, taking loads of pictures and talking in strange languages.

After 3 long days on the river, I was getting really fed up, but finally we arrived at a big boat park which was so full that Dad had to park right under a huge rusty crane that didn't look too safe, so we all got off. It was just as well really, because no sooner had we stepped onto dry land when this huge machine burst into life, picked up my home, swung it right up into the air and dumped it on some concrete, right by the side of the river.

I decided then and there that the people in this boat park were crazy.....there we were, all standing on the grass and they've put the place where I live on blocks of wood so tall that we can't get back onto it!!!!

Where are we going to sleep?.
                                         How's Dad going to get his beer?,
                                                                                      HOW AM I GOING TO GET MY TEA???!!!....

Dad went to speak to the man that had picked up our boat, and I guess that he must have told him of my worries, because he came back with a huge set of steps, pushed them against the back of the boat and left, saying 'There you go'...                  THERE YOU GO!!!.......I'm a dog, not a rock-climber!!,
I don't know about stairs, I've never had to climb ten foot to get to my food-bowl before, and I don't think Dad's used to high altitudes either.

Naturally I thought that Dad was going to take me up the steps by carrying me, like he did when I was a young pup...but I was mistaken!!.....
Dad thought that because I go over jumps at Agility, that I would do the steps.....but he was mistaken!!

Mum, of course, as the most practical person in the family, came up with the answer....She simply said 'If you two don't stop faffing around and get onto the boat THERE WON'T BE ANY TEA!!'
So, putting our worries aside in the name of family harmony, and desparately in need of sustenance, we were soon up the steps and leaning over the back rail to look at the ground...many feet below, and got to wondering how, now that we are up...how do we get down???...
                       ...........and after all of this trauma, when and how are they going to paint Dad's bottom?? ...

Doubtless Mum will have an answer for that as well...

xx Beau

Beau and The Hidden Box of Torture

Stratford upon Avon, Stratford Canal

We've been here for about 10 days so far, and I think that Dad is getting bored. He's polished the boat - twice, and even scrubbed off the black gooey stuff that comes off the chimney onto the roof in Winter. He's put black polish on the stove, cleaned my paw prints off the radiator in the bedroom, and now he's really getting under Mum's feet. (So that makes two of us!!)

There's been a black box behind Mums chair for as long as I can remember. It's had books on it, been covered with an old dog blanket, and I think that Dad used it once to stand on when he fixed a light in the roof.
Anyway, yesterday, with a shout of "I know what I'll do!!", Dad leapt, (as only a 61 year old can leap), dived into the corner behind Mums chair and dragged the long-hidden box into the daylight for the first time in years.
From out of its depths, came an object of shiney red, with little white buttons all over it. Within seconds, Dad had pulled it apart and pressing some of the buttons, produced a noise like an asthmatic cat being scalded with boiling water.

Squeezing and pulling and pressing of white buttons went on for what seemed to be several lifetimes; my ears were ringing and Mum had long ago left in search of some peace, standing under the loudspeakers at the railway station.
Dad finally said that he'd practised enough for one day and carefully put the squealing red monster back into the black box.
Peace and quiet eventually returned, my ears stopped ringing, and Mum came back with a small bag from the B&Q place.

The black box has gone back behind the chair again, but now it has a shiney padlock on it.....I could be mistaken, but last night, I thought I heard the tinkle of keys being quietly dropped over the side of the boat.

xx Beau

Time Travel

Stratford-upon-Avon, Stratford Canal

We've arrived back to the place we started out from. When we left, there was snow on the ground and my p-mails were frozen within minutes of being posted. Now that we are back, its raining and there is thunder and lightning, which doesn't really bother me, but Dads a bit worried about being zapped on his shiney bald-spot, (or solar-panel as he calls it).

Anyway, as soon as we got back, my mate Harley the Springer Spaniel, who had obviously missed me, made himself at home by coming onto the boat and clearing my food-bowl.....twice!!   He even hoovered-up all of my spare biscuits that had gone under the kitchen units and behind the cooker that I kept for those moments when I felt snacky in the night.....

Although I was a bit miffed, Mum said that the sharing of food is the sign of true friendship, but I don't think that sharing was uppermost in Harleys mind, and true friendship wears thin when night-starvation sets in......

Sometimes, when I appear to be asleep, I'm really listening in to conversations that are going on around me, listening out for key-words like 'Vets', 'Chicken' and 'Walk'. Anyway, Mum and Dad were talking to some people about our latest trip, when these people said how strange it was that it had taken us 4 months to get from Stratford to London, when we could have driven there in a couple of hours..............A COUPLE OF HOURS !!!!!....are you kidding me??  I've been stuck on this boat for 4 months, I've been tied up outside pubs, been dribbled on by Rotties, growled at by Staffies with tattoos, been shouted at by kite-flyers, taunted by sheep and disrespected by ducks...............all to get to London when we could have got there and back in a day!!!!!!
Mum tried to calm me down.....she said that a chap once wrote 'It is not about the destination, it is about the journey'. Well, all  I can say is that the destination wasn't all that good, and the journey took so long that when I got back, I had to forfeit my biscuit stash to a Spaniel......I bet that chap never thought about that when he wrote his book......

I'm going to lie on my bed and stare at flies on the ceiling for a bit.....

xx Beau

The Boys from Norway

Lowsonford, Stratford Canal

Its been a while since I've been able to get onto the laptop. The thing at the back of the boat that's supposed to make electricity as we go along, hasn't been. Every few minutes this thing goes 'bleep, bleep, bleep, and puts a red light on which, apparently, means that it's got too hot, and has given up for a while.
Dads had it in pieces for days now; he said it shouldn't be getting that hot, even in this weather, because its got a fan in it.
Well, I've got fans all over the world, and I'm still feeling the heat!! so I don't think that being popular is a reason for it to bleep all the time, or maybe I'm missing the point somewhere.

So, there we were, sitting in the shade of another pub next to the canal; Dad was replacing his lost body fluids with something called I.P.A., which Mum says is short for 'I'm Plastered Again', and we were next to a table with three guys who were talking a strange language, not Brummie or London, but something much more wierd.
Anyway, they saw me and said, in normal languge, 'Hey, you must be Beau, from the boat'.....'we saw you when we went past'. So they got talking to Mum and Dad about boat stuff, like where does all the washing-up water go, (as if Dad would know), and it turned out that they were from a place called Norway, and are taught to speak this strange language from an early age, and only use English when they need to speak in pubs.
Dad was really pleased, because they had spent a lot of money to borrow the boat, and they were doing exactly what he does........they were going up the canals, from pub to pub, and enjoying every minute of it.
Mum said that talking to them was like playing SNAP with pub names. Every time they mentioned a pub, Dad said 'Been there, got the Beer Mat', which I think is something you wipe your feet on when you go in.

They were really nice to talk to, and they took down my Blogsite address, so doubtless, they will be sending more pub names to add to Dad's SNAP list.

It's hot outside, so be like me and stay cool

or,  

Ha en god tur, og, finne noen gode puber!!  as they say............

xx Beau