Author: jugglestrugglecatch

Mum of two teenage sons, dog owner, seaside lover living in Whitstable, freelance journalist and more recently teaching assistant until 2017's glut of challenges hijacked life as it was. Currently trying to come to terms with multiple bereavements and other losses, while tackling the demands of being solely responsible for care needs of difficult elderly relative, recently diagnosed with dementia. Survival means include dog therapy, being outside, the kindness of friends, music, the love of a good man, my sons - not in any order. I desire energy and good health to meet my days more fully, and a return to artistic creativity. The big goal for us all, that I must instigate, is to move house - yesterday. My main personal challenges are to build up my own resources and find a truly positive way forward at a sea-change time in my life I can make the most of the future with my family and achieve real personal fulfilment. I am on a mission to discover a way to the latter.

A dog’s nose in the pursuit of food. A dog knows when human is in pursuit.

The remarkable nose of Tali – capable of ‘inhaling’ a bowlful of cat food in a swift single breath

Breathe in just once. Magic! Full bowl of dog food has vanished in a nanosecond…. And you should see young Tali’s illicit speed-of-light trickery with the cat’s food …. a whole portion down his gullet in one snort.

Alpha Mummy:

“Is bread bad for dogs?” So asked Older Male Human, with his customary anxiety.

“Why?” I have an inkling of the inevitability of what is coming.

“Well, I had all the bread lined up on the grill pan and ready to go. I’d lit a match and this nose appears and Tali goes GARUMPH grabs a piece of bread off the pan and runs away.

“I chase after him with the match in my hand [of course you do] but there was no sign of the bread when I caught up,” says the mildly-aggrieved, concerned one.

We’re talking a distance of approximately 20ft here, roughly six metres, from grill pan to farthest reach of our terraced house. Usain Bolt has been clocked at about 28mph on his nippiest sprints, roughly the same top speed as the rough collie and a host of other brisk-running working dogs, including German shepherds, Dobermans, border collies etc, etc – and they are all left far behind the greyhound which hits the 45mph mark. Now, with Mr Bolt’s 100 metre times at less than 9.5 seconds, this means our boy could theoretically easily make the 20ft distance in less than a second.

The really impressive statistic is the downing of a piece of bread, wholemeal with extra chew, while on the run and hotly pursued, literally with that burning match and attached person. What is it about the human male and the masculine propensity for inappropriate handling of fire?

I reassured Older Male Human that our cheeky young dog is likely to survive the bread-consuming experience.

This incident has overtones of a rather embarrassing recent occurrence in wonderful Kent food emporium Whitstable Produce Store. This lovely shop and cafe in Harbour Street sells an excellent range of delicious food and drink produced in the Garden of England. It serves great tea and coffee, mouth watering cakes and sweet and savoury pastries, as well as hearty sandwiches, soups, jacket potatoes and more.

It is just as well that the business is dog-friendly. It is one thing keeping a close eye on our hapless hound when he is enticed by tantalising ground level displays of dog biscuits in the local pet shop, as can be expected. In the produce store, who knew that super sharp Tali was secretly eyeing up the display of seasonal fruit and veg? A moment’s slack on the lead and inattention on my part and he was right on in there. The shame! Two carrots on the floor and Tali snaffling one of them with gusto. The thing about Steve and Amanda and their staff is that they love dogs and have a great sense of humour. With head hung low, I offered to pay for the carrots but they made a generous veggie donation, beguiled by the shameless fluffy one. We are not barred yet!

20180111_152012 — Tali relishes his ill-gotten carrot gains from Whitstable Produce Store

Funny thing about Tali is that out on walks at back-on-the-lead time, his food motivation drops to disappointingly low levels – just when one wants to keep up some kind of illusion of being a successful, responsible and in-control dog owner – obviously using a bit of edible bribery. Over to Tali for an account of one of his most annoying adolescent delinquency traits, as demonstrated on our walk this morning.

Tali:

Here I am on this morning’s walk.

Now, the thing is on our walks, we have a great time. Particularly when I am off the lead.

Then I do a lot of the usual dog stuff. I chase balls, chase birds, chase the waves. Run about with other dogs up for a good time. Run here, run there. Sniff, sniff, sniff. Tell off the tide. Bark, bark, bark. We walk. I mosey and meander. Loosely staying with Alpha mum. Loosely is the thing. Inevitably, there will come a time when she thinks it is a good idea to get me back on the horrid lead. I never think this is a good idea. And I always know when she is thinking about it. I just do.

Now on our walks I do stay with Alpha mum, more or less within close vicinity, with just a few diversions. I generally return to being close by when she calls. Sometimes she gives me a treat and some fuss and a cuddle. It’s great. But I always know when it’s The Time. Time to be re-attached. Why she thinks I need that lead, I have no idea. She thinks about it and hopes I don’t know, I know anyway. But it becomes really obvious what she is plotting when she proffers a treat. Busted Alpha mum! There is always a dog-recapture aura about her. This is my cue to run off quickly in the opposite direction. It might even be a top quality treat, like chicken. She’ll give it to me on some other occasion and I can wait. I run off. Me, I’d rather be free. After she has failed a few times, I am having the best time. Loads of attention. Great game. Then, eventually, she resorts to doing some rather strange things. Digging a hole on the beach and trying to get me to come and look into it – within arm’s reach. I’m not that silly. Once, she pretended she had found something really fascinating under the steps of the yacht club. That time, I could not resist and I was nabbed. I usually submit gracefully but sometimes I protest.

IMG_20171012_150921 — Tali and walk buddy ‘Uncle’ Chico chillaxing at home.

A more recent tactic was when she made a big fuss of my walk buddy Uncle Chico, thinking I would muscle in for my share of the attention. No Way. I’m smarter than that. She also sometimes attempts the lead lasso tactic. Ha, ha, ha. Waste of time. Do I get near enough. Is she quick enough. Ha, ha, ha. Walking in company, one of those other bipeds will get a hold on my harness when I am unaware and passing by in a friendly fashion. How very dare they! Other times, Alpha mum gets me at the most inopportune times on our walks – when we are NOT EVEN WALKING TOWARDS HOME, for example. How very dare she! To be honest, after a few barking protests, insisting she releases me, soooooo deaf and stupid that Alpha Mum, I settle down. Then its back home for some more shuteye and sweet dreams of running and chasing, not a lead in sight.

Paws for introduction

Tali

This is a tale of a tail: mine. Actually, it mainly features the rest of me as attached to the tail, a rather streamlined, sleek hound disguised by a great deal of fluff . I have a rather fine and bushy tail and I love to chase it, that darn annoying, elusive appendage.

20180126_112816 — Showing off my plumy tail at West Beach, Whitstable.

Keeping Tali is also about other tails – and the dogs attached, and the owners attached to them. It is about what we all get up to and where and why and who with. Basically keeping tally on Keeping Tali. Pack leader, Alpha Female, referred to and known by me as Mummy, may also include some related and some random thoughts and comments. She will try hard not to ‘go on’, she’s good at that, or bad at that if you like, or don’t like. It’s her first proper attempt at this blogging lark.

20170717_130853 — On my way from Dorset to Whitstable: snoozing.

Quick scene setter: I am a male, tricolour, rough collie born in May 2017, so aged eight months. Tali is short for Taliesin, more on that later. I was born in Dorset, but have lived in Whitstable since I was nine-weeks-old with Alpha Female Mummy, from now on to be known as AFM, Chris (older male human or OMH) and Robin (younger male human or YMH). Then there is also Adam (Not-quite-as-young-as-his-brother-Robin male human NQYMH). He has been away a lot since I was quite little. I know all my humans names and get most excited if any one of them is not home and one of the others says “Where’s Chris/Robin/Mummy/Adam.” Run to the door, stop, look listen. Where are they? Where are they?

20170720_183432 — DFD: I’m Down From Dorset and do wolf impression as boss dog at Tankerton Slopes. YMH is obviously afraid, very afraid.

Then there is also Minkey. Ah, Minkey! Minkey is notable by the thundering noises that come from Upstairs. That Minkey, he is a cat. I’ve seen that cat. He is an extremely small, insignificant and annoying creature. How can he make so much noise running about. BANG, THUNDER, WALLOP, BANG, THUNDER, WALLOP, BANG, THUNDER WALLOP. Are your hands over your ears yet? He also shows off jumping from great heights, well from on top of the snake tank, Adam’s bunk bed etc etc Think CRASH, THUMP, the house shakes. Most offensive and traumatic to my finely tuned canine sensory perception. When Minkey runs, think Ride of the Valkyries. I used to bark at this worrying phenomenon. A lot. My canine intuition indicated that hoardes of alien, dog-hating invaders were imminently to descend and bite, or even annihilate all of us. Or, far worse than that, steal my food and toys! Even when That Minkey is just tiptoeing upstairs, I pick up doggy Armageddon vibes. So of course I bark, I am a one beast early warning system. And Proud. Well, I used to bark a lot about Minkey. AFM and the others used to talk strictly to me about that barking. Sometimes AFM waved a small red can, making a sharp, offensive hissing noise, and saying harshly “hush”. Obviously a giant reptile was about to jump on this virtuous young collie and his pack. With hideous red can and hissing a priority threat, I know when to be quiet. Anyway, That Minkey is boring. Doesn’t play with me, not going to encourage him by wasting so much of my barking on him. The red can in AFM’s hand, its horrid hiss and her stern voice are obviously to be heeded ahead of alien invaders, as yet invisible, if loud. Foolish humans, they need to watch their backs, my best efforts are sometimes wasted on them. But don’t worry, there are many, many other phenomena I can and do warn them about. Loudly. Often. I will not give up on them. Loyal To Lassie is my mantra.

: Smug, snug cat Minkey.

AFM refers to Minkey as The Upstairs Cat, and to me as The Downstairs Dog. That’s Minkey’s choice. Not fair, he can go down and where he wants, but I can’t go up. There is an annoying gate at the bottom of the stairs. If those humans inadvertently, and inevitably fail to shut it properly, or even at all, from time to time, I’m through it and up the stairs (my turn for thunder paws, albeit briefly) and have snorted up the cat’s food before they can even get to the bottom stair. Then, I’m off to find That Minkey to see if he’ll play yet. Miserable spoilsport. He glowers. He makes a noise like this: AAARRRRHOWWWWW, MIAOOWWROROOOWWW, PSSSSSSPIT. PSSSSPITTTTTT. PSSSST. By this time, one of the humans will have caught up with me and it means I get picked up and carried down the stairs. I can get up them fast enough but they are jolly scary if you have four legs and are not that used to stairs. Anyway, why walk if you can get a lift. I rather like being carried, its cozy and the views are better. AFM grumbles a lot, she says I weigh more than 20 kilograms? Who is she to talk!

AFM says that Minkey and I should live in harmony, playing happily together, curling up for snoozes by the fire (if we had one), contentedly keeping each other company. It’s just That Minkey is such a party pooper. Dogs rule! But I would REALLY like to be his friend. AFM hasn’t given up and neither have I. Watch this space.

The Dream

GETTING TO KNOW YOU. My name’s Tali, which is short for Taliesin. Taliesin means handsome!

A four-legged friend, a four-legged friend, he’ll never let you down. He’s honest and faithful right up to the end, that wonderful one-two-three-four-legged friend.