Stranger Danger

Mummy and I walk regularly … you’ll find us out and about in the evening, and more so these days, we make our way in the early morning. The smells of autumn are here … a collection of acorns on our path. There is nothing that I enjoy more than the cacophony of sights, smells, noises. The butterflies, bees and grasshoppers are plentiful this time of year and I can most certainly make the most of a romp through the tallest grasses or clearing a swath through the clover.

We rarely walk the same path every day, and although I’ve trod by the houses on either side of ours more times than I could recount, I always stop to smell a few of the choicest spots on this, the most regular part of our route. Fortunately, we like to mix it up, and the tangle of streets throughout our neighborhood provides a never ending array of options.

It’s the occasional passerby that will often cause me to literally stop in my tracks … bat ears perked up on high alert. Yesterday was one such occasion. Mom and I had set out on our walk right after she got home … (and by the way, where does she go all day? That’s probably a subject for another day …) … we’d made it three or four houses … when I saw another dog and his walker approach … so I sat down … which in turn causes mom to pull up short. Mom, in her effort to persuade me back up on my feet will give me a slight tug on the lead … I respond by taking one, yes, one step forward ... Mom gives me a another tug ... one more tiny step forward and then I will likely take my seat. No amount of coaxing and cajoling will make me move till I’m ready …

Once I do decide that the approaching stranger provides no imminent danger … I will approach quickly and then slowly and then quickly … like a preteen at their first dance. Other times, I prefer the view from the safe confines between mom’s ankles … and it’s from there, I will quickly dart forward and back ... coyly flirting but not quite giving in. It's usually a quick chuck under my chin and we are on our way ...

The Low Down on Scotties of Reknown ...

Some of the more famous Scotties, other than myself (none of my brethren have blogs all their own ...), have lived in the Whitehouse. Most of us are familiar with the most noteworthy Scottish Terrier, Fala. Fala was the beloved companion of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Alongside President Roosevelt, Fala is memorialized in bronze at the FDR memorial in Washington DC.

Far less is known about President and Mrs. Roosevelt's other Scotties, Duffy, Mrs. Duffy, and Meggie.

President George W. Bush were also owned by two Scotties, Barney and Miss Beazley. In the age of You Tube and the 24-hours news cycle, people are more familiar with the Bush's dogs. Barney and Miss Beazley's exploits in the Whitehouse were commorated in holiday-themed films as well as other seasonal fare. Breaking from his usual target during the Bush administration, Barney was the featured subject of a satirical piece by Jon Stewart on The Daily Show. Hardly one to tolerate the ignominies of the press, Barney made headlines when he bit a Reuters pool reporter. Yeah, that'll teach him. Here are bits of information that might be of particular interest to the members of my clan ... Barney's mom is named Coors, and his brother is named Clinton.

Other very famous people have had the pleasure of having a Scottish Terrier as companions include Jackie Kennedy, Queen Victoria, and President Dwight Eisenhower.

Mr Cluny's Opus ...

I'm not very vocal ... it's not that I don't have a lot to say... but I do think it helps me maintain an aura of mystery. However, if you listen very closely you'll hear the symphony that is Cluny. The clicks, the grunts, and squeals ...


I've been known to nap throughout the day ... sometimes I'm on the sofa, sometimes I'm in the office, and sometimes you can find me in my house. When the most recent snooze has come to a satisfactory conclusion, and it's time for me to rise and shine ... I will let loose with a melodious bleat that accompanies a particularly gratifying stretch.


Often the prospect of dinner will elicit a series of low, guttural grunts akin to Hollywood's romanticized version of the reanimated Franken Terrier.

And on occasion, I will bark at a phantom ... Mom and Dad refer to this outburst as random barking day.

TV for Dogs

When the front door is open ... as it often is these days ... I get to watch the world go by.

This is what's showing tonight on The Nature Channel ...

And here's me watchin' it ...

That new ball smell ...

I love the smell of a new tennis ball as it exits the tube, bright yellow, and still covered with nap. We seemed to have progressed to the place where my toys must be virtually indestructible.

Tempt me with the 'invincible' stuffed animal ... nope. Taunt me with a Canine Hardware durable frisbee ... think again. Puppy kong ... yeah, I ate mine.

The coping technique has evolved to include Internet searches and discussions with folks at the pet store. Each and every inquiry results in the next latest and greatest toy that cannot be destroyed by one, 20lb-Scottish Terrorist ... I mean, Terrier.

It's not even that I am that fond of my toys ... I just don't want anyone else to have them either. You can count on me to herd my assorted baubles away from anyone who just might happen to take an interest and who, in turn, then might endeavor to engage me in a game of fetch.