A new basset has arrived in our midsts.  Affectionately known as AB (as in antibasset).  To be truthful this basset has always been here but recently has become the devil incarnate.  Up to no good and terrorising poor Fortnum who has even allowed his normal even temper to be lost from time to time.

Yes, the games of growing up are ever more evident as Mason pushes for another attempt to be top dog in this house.

Can you see his devil horns?

No I don’t want to give the wrong impression about out little devil.  He means no harm.  He wouldn’t hurt a fly really.  No it’s true.  Look see!

Mason’s want in life is just to be centre of attention.  At the heart of the action.  He wants more gold stars on his wall chart to prove he’s the best basset around here.

In his enthusiasm to love and be cherished he can get rather over excited.  He can be a pest.  Pawing at your leg to get another neck rub, even after he’s had two already.  He’s a demanding basset that way.

He always wants to be close to Fortnum and has taken to climbing into bed with him.  It has resulted in more than one or two fisticuffs lately which are upsetting for all involved.

Poor Mason, he doesn’t mean to be a devil.  You wouldn’t think he was when you see this sweet little face.

He’s just a regular little basset whose just too bright for his own good.

But he has feelings too.  He was convinced that we’d left the country after they were left at home last night whilst MT and I did culture in Wellington.  We went to see the Monet exhibition being held at Te Papa. By the time we got home after supper with a friend in town it was way past basset bed time but Mason was not ready for bed.

His anxiety had reached such levels he was totally wired.  He dashed around like a lunatic and couldn’t settle.  He was so excited to see us, his tailed wags so hard he almost took off with the helicopter movement.  He did not move from my ankle as I pottered on putting the chickens to bed in the dark.  No this was a totally happy basset that we’d come home and rescued him from his prison in the barn.

He wouldn’t say he was worried but he was – I can tell these things.

You see little basset would normally be plotting, scheming and misbehaving.  Let me tell you this is a look of an AB at work.

He’ll be thinking, what more can I do now?  She’s stopped me eating the toilet rolls.  I’ve found my way of getting onto all the sofas and she’s now put a blanket down to stop me spreading my hairs.  I’ve mastered the art of getting neck rubs on demand and last but not least I’ve found the way of squeezing myself between my dumb brother whenever he’s got the full attention of the two legged ones.

How do I know he’s thinking that?  I just know.

See these wrinkles.  They move in mysterious ways when little basset is plotting.  He also gets a furrowed brow.

Now he’s not thinking, he’s just watching the flies.  See no wrinkles!

All this thinking can be tiring for little basset.  Must rest his chin.  Resting his chin is his favourite thing.  It doesn’t matter whether it’s a clod of earth, the car seat or the window ledge.  If there’s a place to rest your chin Mason will.

After all thinking requires a lot of effort for a basset.  No sense in wasting energy holding your head up too.

There are times when the wrinkle theory doesn’t quite work.  This is Mason all pooped.  Getting sleepy.  This is just his face relaxing to the point where his wrinkles might engulf his face if he’s not careful.

Nothing for it.  Time for a snooze.  Mason is a specialist snoozer, he gets right comfy.

But don’t be fooled.  This may look like a sleeping basset.  Indeed it may be a sleeping basset.  But this is a basset that has the capability to be sleeping, snoring, monkey jumping in his sleep and still be able to leap up and run to the fridge the moment the door it opens.  You see the big silver magic box is Mason’s favourite place.

Nice things come out of there.  Things that if he gets there first he’ll get the most because his slow coach brother just lies around not bothered knowing we treat both our bassets equally. He’ll still get what he wants without all the rushing around.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Mason’s next major adventure will be to find his own way to open the fridge, extract his chicken necks and sit his bed eating them until he makes himself sick.

Remember I said he’d do this because one day he will.  This is an antibasset.  He finds a way of doing all those devilish things!