Gilbert the Good

 

Gilbert the Good

My humans have said that I can write my own blog posts now that I am six months old, just occasionally you know, not daily, or anything like that.

Gus-who-came-before-me used to write a blog quite regularly. He came from the same kennels in the Welsh Marches as me, and so did Jenna. Jenna was Gus-who-came-before-me’s half-sister. Jenna was small but I don’t think she was only half the size of Gus-who-came-before-me. 

Jenna wearing her tracker. It used to say things like, 'Treed her quarry' when she was off chasing deer. 

Bertie came before me too, but they're all pushing up the daisies now. I don't know what that means.

 

              Bertie, King of the Kong

Anyway, they’re not here and when their photographs appear on the big window on the wall, my humans get sad and say how wonderful they were and then they start talking about all the things they did – the dogs, that is.

They go back yonks and laugh about the JRs, and the Dalmatians. All I hear is, ‘Do you remember?’ and obviously they do, or they wouldn’t talk about them. They sound fun, although they always say Frodo-the-Faller was a handful. Does that mean he was so small the humans could hold him in their hands? The humans told me the vets called him their problem child, but I thought he was a dog, not a human.

Gus-who-came-before-me adored Frodo-the-Faller and talked about him quite a lot in his blog posts.

Frodo-the-Faller in his prime

Anyway, I’m a very special puppy, with big paws to fill. When I first arrived here, my humans kept calling me Gus or Bertie, but my name’s Gilbert. I think they’ve learnt it now. Humans are quite slow, sometimes.

Sleeping with Herschel

TTFN

Gilbert