Bertie loves going out with the big dogs and observes closely as Jenna and Gus plunge into water or leap over ditches and into dense undergrowth in their eagerness to retrieve the Kong. He chases after them excitedly, stopping at the water’s edge – despite a couple of unexpected dips he’s still at the ‘toes in the water’ stage. He watches as Frodo strides in to bathe but is not tempted to follow. His time will come.
He is not such a little puppy any more. Now sixteen weeks old, he has grown in all directions and is a leggy small dog, more than half the height of Jenna. He has a good turn of speed, short-lived but impressive, and doesn’t have the rocking horse gait that so many pups display.
On Sunday Bertie was galloping after Jenna and Gus near the edge of the first forest pond – that’s not its official name, but one we’ve given it to clarify where we’re going or where we’ve been. We’ve numbered only the ponds in the forest that are most easily accessible to us, the lumbering humans. The dogs can reach all the bodies of water, wherever they are.
The ground surrounding Number One Pond is very wet and as Gus and Jenna charged past, Gus caught Bertie a glancing blow and knocked him into the mud. He gave a little yelp, more of surprise than pain, and came back to us. He had been transformed from a golden puppy to a black and tan dog. There was no lasting damage.
When we reached home the mud soon dried to powder that dropped off his coat to garnish the floors and furnishings of our house.
I don't think our home will ever feature in a glossy magazine unless as a warning to othersJ
