Although a basset hound can’t be trusted to be off lead I do allow Fortnum and Mason occasionally and let them roam under close supervision. I admit, a selfish move on my part really for I find their plodding ways painful to maintain for any length of time and it gives me a chance to indulge myself in some photography. Readers of this blog might prefer I find some new things to photograph but I can’t help myself – these guys are such cool dudes is hard to resist.
One of the biggest benefits of upgrading my camera is that I can now take photographs in low light conditions but I’m still trying to master the full capabilities of the camera. It’s a darn sight harder than guessing a basset hounds next move. For I knew the moment I’d point my camera at little basset he’d turn his face away from me. Nevertheless I like this picture of Mason for it’s dark mystery as to what he’s plotting next.
Having “me time” is a common focus of the coaching conversations I have with busy people. For them there just isn’t enough time in the day for them to then find time for themselves. Little Basset is the consummate me time dog – he always seems to want time in his own thoughts. Just lying down with his chin outstretched to rest, preferably on something soft and cosy but anything will do. I can’t help but think that under those wrinkles and fur that there is mischief brewing with our brainy basset working out his next act of canine terror involving mud and water on my clean kitchen floor.
It brought terror to my heart when I lost my bassets in the bush. They were there one minute and gone the next. For bassets that can move at snail pace they can move remarkably fast. To this day I never know what the bassets were thinking when they high tailed away in a blink of an eye. I forgave them both when I heard big basset barking in response to my cries and whistles as I’m sure they were as frightened as I was. Reminded me of when I lost my mum in a shop and I stood still and just screamed until she came running.
Today I thought I was reliving the nightmare of losing my hounds. Or to be precise hound. I had little basset at my heal but all of a sudden I realised that big basset wasn’t there. He was gone.
When you become a basset owner you should be supplied with some saintly essence. A small bottle of smelling salts that when sniffed as required you develop patience on demand. Failing that you must develop a level of patience to survive with your sanity intact and see the continued entertainment value of having bassets in your life. You see basset hounds have taurean like characteristics of determination and strong will. They won’t be hurried, won’t be budged until they are good and ready. As a Taurean myself I can recognise the signs.
Meeting bassets for the first time can be an overwhelming experience. People tend to gush with questions and statements about how they look – “my, all those wrinkles, short legs, red eyes and don’t they look cute cute”. For all their gorgeousness people still can’t get over seeing the enormity of a basset hounds feet. Being bigger than your average basset Fortnum has larger than average basset feet and he loves to strut kicking out his front paws to show the world how marvellous they are. When I saw took this photograph I didn’t quite appreciate how big his paws can seem.
Shame he’s looking a little fed up too. Can’t blame him though it’s been increasingly miserable weather-wise and pottering outside in saturated ground isn’t much fun even for an exploring basset. Or maybe he’s just thinking serious thoughts – like how can I get an extra treat or get pole position on the window seat. I would love to know what a basset hound really thinks. I’m sure if they really spoke they’d have a few things to say in response to people they met for the first time – “hey dude, you’re tall, you’ve got a big nose and how come you don’t have a tail”.
For all their idiosyncrasies the bassets do have the right idea about life – best foot forward, whatever the weather and state of the economy.
A deep crisp frost is a beautiful sight. And that’s about as much credit I can give a cold snap. It is otherwise a dangerous and destructive force. I dread to think the damage it has done to my beloved vegetables. I know it’s added another layer of moisture on the already sodden grass. For bassets it brings new sniffing possibilities although I can only imagine how much their paws must be tingling as they plod amongst the crackling grass.
Big basset is still on short measure of walking on account of his strained leg but it doesn’t stop him hooning like a loony tune down the garden. I know I’m biased but he really is a handsome hound who loves life outdoors. He’s always looking out for something new and interesting to keep him amused. Most importantly he’s always keeping a close eye on his pesky brother who may have found something he should rightfully have.
In the land of fair and square, it’s only right that little basset should have his moment here on Domestic Executive HQ. But as much as I love Mason I can’t get past the fact he is in fact the devil incarnate. Our own anti-basset in residence. The tester of boundaries. The daily challenger for top spot in our pack.
He is such a determined little chap to claim the ultimate prize, he rarely looks me in the eye when I have the camera for fear of undermining his moment of superiority. He has been a terrorist in our camp this week, testing my patience to the limit. Those long and luxurious ears seem to have lost the power of hearing although his howl is as strong and demanding as it ever was.
Yet Mason is our smart basset. If you could measure a bassets IQ I’d say Little Basset would be in Mensa, a dog that would pass his 11 plus exam with flying colours. I’ve no doubt he would be a candidate for a canine Oxbridge if there were such a thing. For this is a dog that knows how to drive me crazy all day and then crawl into my lap at night giving me love and licks (yuck) that make him my favourite Little Basset all over again.
You hear about writers block. I wonder what the photo blogging equivalent is? I’ve been out every day this week with my camera but I’ve hit a dry spell of inspiration. No doubt I’ve been distracted with other things. But all round I’ve felt I’ve lost my rhythm this week. Stop, start. Stop, deviate, change course and try and keep on track. I’m just pleased its a short week this week and there’s a long weekend to get back my equilibrium.
The one thing that is constant in my life is Fortnum and Mason. You can always be sure that whatever else is happening things are pretty much as they should be in their little world. For all the mishaps and the constant worry they give me it is far outweighed by their ability to keep me smiling and keep life in perspective.
Imagine how tedious it gets following the same route every day. It’s much the same for the bassets who fall in and out of love of their various walks. There is nothing worse in the world than a disgruntled basset. They are prone to sulks, dragging of paws and false sniffing as a strategy for showing one’s displeasure.
As a result we have a miscellany of walks to keep things varied and allows for a range of weather conditions. The walks immediately around home are the ones that get thoroughly explored so I’ve tended to take Fortnum and Mason out further afield. It’s a mental health requirement. My mental health that is.
After a tense week, normal war and peace has resumed with the bassets. They were united in destroying this toy to get the much more interesting to chew stuffing out. Shame that bassets don’t play catch or fetch. It would be much less exhausting for us.
