Gibson and Ghetto haven’t shown up here on the blog for quite a while. Thank you to everyone who wrote and asked about them. They are keeping well, and continue to bring us a lot of joy. They are both seven years old now, and ( I have to say this very quietly) Gibson is going rather grey around the jowls, but that doesn’t stop them racing up to the forest on every possible opportunity.
Gibson the retriever is, has always been and always will be the gentleman. He lives to make us happy. When I come home and open the garden gate he scrambles around to find something he can bring me as a gift. A stone, a branch, or maybe if I’m really lucky a mouthful of soggy leaves!
Gibson will only lay on the sofa if formally invited, he won’t eat his food until given the all clear, and he loves to be brushed, and taken care of.
Ghetto is an altogether different client. He will sit on the sofa, the armchair, new cushions or even my bed, as often as he wants. Because seriously why else would we have this comfortable furniture around the house if it wasn’t to keep him happy? When I come home he won’t bring me a gift, but he will check the car to see if I have anything for him, and more than anything in the world he hates to be brushed or groomed.
Ghetto wakes each morning with a to-do list. He is often to be seen sitting in the middle of the garden, his ears twitching in radar mode, ensuring he misses nothing. In the garden he is an expert mouse catcher and mole digger-upper, and in the spring, when there are bird nests perched in the wisteria on the front of the house, I frequently have to get a ladder to retrieve him from some impossible position eight foot off the ground, because he has climbed the branches looking for a nest and got stuck!
But this week he took his adventures to a whole new level. We had a plumber here, with his big white plumber van parked in the driveway. I was in my office, and Ghetto started barking incessantly. Stepping out of the office to investigate what all the excitement was about, Ghetto was found beneath the van, his head poked up behind the wheel hub. He had the scent of something.
He was hauled into the office but persistently whined until let out again. An hour later, it wasn’t his barking that took us outside, but the total silence. I went out to investigate and couldn’t find him anywhere. I checked the gate but it was closed, checked indoors, no dog. I asked the plumber if he had seen Ghetto, and together we walked around his truck. No dog in sight. Suddenly we heard the tiniest noise. The plumber looked puzzled, opened the driver door to release the lock on the hood. He stepped back in front of the truck and lifted the hood slowly to reveal ….. Ghetto! That dog had climbed up over the wheel and somehow gotten into the actual motor! Seriously ?!