I'm a 'furry pig' when it comes to food

Chocolate Labradors have a bit of a reputation where food is concerned and I can't deny it, I take my duty to uphold the reputation of my breed very seriously. I will eat anything in my path, except that is, for raw potatoes, raw parsnips and raw mushrooms. However, once the food fairy has done her magic with them, I will quite happily chobble my way through a bowl full. It's a well known fact that Labradors will eat and eat and eat and won't stop until the food supply has run out. I've even heard of Labradors eating so much that they have burst their stomach - not nice. But that's an extreme example, but like people, we can put on weight which can lead to us being really unhealthy and unfit. That's why the humans that look after us have to be responsible.
When I first came to my new home, my food fairy gave me 'dry food', which was recommended by the breeder. It was ok, it filled me up, but it was a bit boring. It also had rather a bizarre side effect. It was so full of protein it was like giving blue Smarties and cola to a child. To say I went hyper is an understatement. Within half an hour of every meal I was so full of energy I just had to run it off. That wasn't so bad when I was little or outside, but as I got bigger, it soon became clear inside the house was not the place to do it. If the food fairy hadn't changed my diet, the dining table and chairs would have been reduced to kindling in no time.
Following discussions with the vet and my mate the butcher, we seemed to hit on a reasonable diet of eggs, pasta, rice and the meat and bone mince. I enjoyed the hearts and the offal, but the food fairy wasn't too impressed with the way the smell lingered for hours. I rather liked it myself, but it is an acquired taste. Whenever the humans have a chicken, the food fairy always boils the bones so that I can have the last bits of meat and the stock. You see I'm not too keen on water, but I will drink gallons of chicken stock, so it's a way that my owners can ensure I don't get dehydrated. Clever eh!

If the food fairy is in the kitchen you can guarantee I'm not too far away. There's always a chance I might get a tasty treat and you never know when something will accidentally drop to the floor and then it's mine. Like the day she dropped a tray of mini scotch eggs - I skidded around the kitchen floor like Bambi on ice, scooping them up before the food fairy could retrieve them. I think the final score was 4-2 to me.

We had some visitors round at the weekend and all the kids had their meals on the patio. I didn't have to wait long before a juicy chicken burger came my way. If things don't get dropped, I can always go scrumping for apples or berries in the garden, or if there's really slim pickings, I can always rely on my puppy dog eyes to get me a tasty treat.

But gluttony is not without its downside and I do have to watch my weight. I've already been given the nickname the 'furry pig' after rescuing the remains of a cucumber from the compost heap when we went visiting (that was after I'd eaten the food that had been put out for the hedgehog). It doesn't help when food treats are so useful as a training aid, however my food fairy got round that one. She will give me bits of carrot or cabbage stalks as a treat - low in calories and they taste great. You know I'm sure she must think I'm a vegetarian!


Anyway time for tea, Button x.

Fun, Frolics and Forgotten Heroes

Hi everyone,

I'm back to tell you of more of my adventures on holiday. I had some fabulous times on the beaches whilst on holiday. I rolled in the sand, swam in the sea and, oh yes, splattered mud all over little miss half pint. She wasn't so impressed; nor were our travelling companions as she had to go back to the cottage to change. I also got to play football and though I say so myself, my tackling is second to none...accept for a black Labrador, who was bigger than me and kept nicking my ball.

We also went to a place called Slapton Sands, though I didn't see much sand when I was there, the pebbles were great for rolling in and having a good scratch. I also had a good swim in the sea, though I wasn't allowed to go too far because of the current.

For such a lovely place, Slapton has a very sad history. During World War II Slapton and nearby villages were evacuated and used by the military in training exercises for the Normandy Landings. There were several rehearsals for D Day, but Exercise Tiger proved costly in terms of casualties and lives lost. I find it astonishing that Eisenhower ordered the use of live ammunition during a training exercise in order to accustom troops to combat conditions. Yet what ever the task the men were practising for, was it really necessary?

We visited a memorial at the beach and saw a tank that a local man, Ken Small, had retrieved from the sea, with the aid of some locals and a few others. Ken spent a lot of his time persuing his belief there had been a cover up about Exercise Tiger. The servicemen and those involved in the exercise were sworn to secrecy at the time and threatened with the court marshall if they told anyone what had happened.

Perhaps in your history studies, you might find out more and discover what really happened. After all, it could have been one of your ancesters who lost their life at Slapton or took part in the D Day Landings.

Bye for now, Button x

Beach Babe Button

Have I got some tales to tell you...

I knew something was happening but I didn't know what. It can be really unsettling for pets when routines change because they don't understand what is happening. My 'food fairy' was packing box after box and I got really worried when her favourite walking boots disappeared. Then came the day when my 'food fairy', my human dad, the two half pint humans and nan piled into the car with what seemed like half the contents of the house. Unfortunately they didn't leave a lot of room for me; there was just enough room for my bed...not what I'm used to at all. It's hardly what you'd describe as travelling in style, but if you think this was bad you should see what it was like on the way home; I think they brought half of Somerset and Devon home with them and I ended up wearing my water bowl for part of the journey.

It wasn't until I got a sniff of the sea air that things started to look up and I realised we were going on holiday. After an hour and a half on the motorway I was like a coiled spring and you couldn't see me for sand as I did my fastest sprint ever to the sea. I amused myself and a number of onlookers for quite some time, chasing the kite surfers

up and down the shore line...well if they do it on a doggy beach what can they expect! At least when I got back in the car, I was too tired to care about the state of my travelling compartment for the last leg of the journey to the cottage in Timberscombe.

We had to collect the keys for the cottage from the pub, which was really great as I got to sit at the bar and take in all the real ale smells, as well as clean up the odd pork scratching that came my way. This was to be the first of many visits to the pub over the coming week (think I might have gained a pound or two). One of the nice things about country pubs is that dogs are made to feel welcome, which is quite right considering the work country dogs do. So whilst my human family were chatting amongst themselves, I was able to make the aquaintance of a rather dashing spaniel and take in all the new exciting smells.

Off for my tea now, follow the Butt for some more stories tomorrow.