Posts Tagged ‘Bruce’

Get your own fancy bed!

If you’ve followed our posts so far, you’ll already have met the original mighty pooch Bruce, and super Sam the dachshund, but when young whippersnapper Brucie and Great Uncle Sam have a sleepover together, it’s clear to see who’s boss!

It’s true. Bruce actually knows Sam the dachshund as Great Uncle Sam. I know I’m a loon but really it makes sense. Sam belongs to my grandmother; therefore, he must be Bruce’s great uncle. And, if we’re getting really silly, Sam must also be my mother’s brother. (Admittedly, that suggestion isn’t too popular with my mother.)

Bruce loves his furry bed

Bruce loves his furry bed

Great Uncle Sam is about eight years older than Bruce. The very first time they met, when Bruce was an inquisitive puppy with very few manners, Sam put him firmly in his place. One word of warning from the old guy – I suspect along the lines of respecting your elders – has ensured there’s been no bother since. They spend evenings together quite happily, allow one another a welcome sniff and Bruce is always excited (although I can’t think why, since Sam virtually ignores him) when we announce that Great Uncle Sam is coming over.

Bruce and Sam had their first ever sleepover together a couple of months ago at my mum’s house. When it was time to go to bed, mum left them downstairs in their beds and went up to her room. All was quiet. She dozed off.

Then, little noises started emanating from the bedside – tiny whimpers that appeared to be right with her in the bedroom, like a little car alarm going off on the bedroom carpet. Mum peered down and there was Bruce, gazing up at her. It appeared that he was lodging some sort of complaint.

Realising Bruce wasn’t going back downstairs without her, mum trudged down the stairs after Bruce, who seemed extremely insistent that she should follow him post haste.

He led her into the sitting room, straight over to his bed. At once, the cause of Bruce’s grumblings became clear. Great Uncle Sam, sensing that Bruce’s faux-fur-lined bed was a tad more luxurious than his own, had evidently ordered the youngster to hop it before taking up rather smug residence in the centre of Bruce’s bed. Yes, it appeared that Bruce had gone upstairs to find his ‘granny’ with a view to complaining that Sam had stolen his bed and rendered him homeless.

Sam and Bruce - the old gentleman and the young whippersnapper!

Sam and Bruce – the old gentleman and the young whippersnapper!

Mum tried to insist that Sam evacuate Bruce’s bed but Sam haughtily refused. It was clear that he thought, as the elder statesman, he should own the swankiest bed, not that young, foolish upstart Bruce. As soon as Sam was reinstalled in his own bed, he got out again and trotted back to Bruce’s. Bruce looked on, perplexed.

Eventually, as Bruce wouldn’t set foot in Sam’s rejected bed, mum found a solution that Bruce was happy with. She made him a makeshift bed on the sofa (ooh treat!), into which he curled, fixing a beady eye on Sam throughout the move. Thankfully, dogs are wonderful, forgiving creatures and, having agreed to say no more about it, Bruce settled into his temporary accommodation and the two dogs spent the rest of the night in peaceful harmony.

Words: Aislinn Kelly

Disneyland for patterdale terriers: a foolish thought

I have something to confess: I thought that, when we visited the village of Patterdale in the Lake District (where patterdales originated), it would be like Disneyland for patterdale terrier owners. I really did. So Michael and I booked a weekend in a cosy dog-friendly inn and took Bruce, our patterdale mix, on holiday to see the sights.

patterdale sign

Michael and Bruce in Patterdale


On the journey, I imagined patterdales of all shapes and sizes dragging their owners down the main street of the village, the tips of their ears meeting on the top of their heads from sheer determination to reach the next bottom for a sniff.

I was convinced I’d see ridiculous people wearing patterdale dog costumes beckoning us into dog-friendly shops, where rows of patterdale paraphernalia would gleam on the shelves. Stuff you’d never need but somehow have to have. Pat the patterdale mascot would wave at us across the street and urge us to enter a Ripley’s weird and wonderful museum of all things patterdale.

I pictured myself spoilt for choice in the bijou gift shops, as I debated over an Abigail Ahern-esque patterdale lamp and a large white candle carved into the shape of my favourite breed, before deciding there was definitely room in my life for both. If the worst came to the worst, I thought, I would settle for one of those bizarre mugs where the head and tail wrap around the mug to make a handle. Maybe even a fridge magnet.

I just knew Bruce would love Patterdale too. A village full of Bruce lookalikes. He could have a good sniff, investigate lamp posts sprinkled with genuine patterdale pee and make important comparisons. He could maybe learn a thing or two from some of the more polite patterdales walking the main strip.

Michael and Bruce enjoy the beautiful scenery at Ullswater

Michael and Bruce enjoy the beautiful scenery at Ullswater

I could be terribly proud of Bruce’s coat and how shiny it is. I could talk to other crazy dog ladies about the little tricks and characteristics of the breed and the individual personalities of our little friends. I would be in patterdale heaven.

Or so I thought. In reality, I went to Patterdale and I didn’t even come back with a ‘lousy t-shirt’. As pretty a village as it is (and it really is!), nestled in the glorious scenery of the Lake District, all I could find to bring home was the Patterdale village sign. And as that seemed to be stuck fast in the ground, I had to settle for a photo of that.

Disneyland for patterdales … what was I thinking?!

Final, more serious note: Despite the lack of patterdale gift shops etc. etc., we’ll definitely be back to the area. What a beautiful part of the world – highly recommended for a relaxing, scenic holiday with plenty of great walks for dogs.

Words: Aislinn Kelly

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