Raising Belle

Best friends

I'm not sure I dare write this, but there are occasional signs, now she's ten months old, that Belle is losing some of her puppy craziness. She is no longer quite so intent on tunneling out/chewing the house/eating small children. She seems to be slowly resigning herself to a fate of being adored by two small girls, tolerated by her adult guardians, and admired by everyone who sets eyes on her.

It's not that bad a life, really, although sometimes I catch her with a faraway look in her eye (second photo) and I just know she's dreaming of the Pyrenees....

I'm watching you

The unwary adult

I think I may have mentioned something about unwary adults and the dangers of being greeted by Belle......Delaney popped by on a brief visit from New York, and was rewarded with a big wet kiss....

Pinko

At nine months old, Belle's growth is at last slowing down. She's still filling out a bit, but she's not going to be quite the giant we first imagined. She's still a lumbering oaf, though, quite capable of knocking down an unwary adult and woe betide the small child who attempts to outrun her.

We haven't found a commercial use for her yet - we had hopes of Hollywood fortune, but given that she treats all orders with disdain, the notion that she might act cute on cue is sadly doomed. Whenever I say to her: "Belle, rescue a child from that burning building" she looks at me contemptuously and wanders off to dig a hole.

She remains very beautiful, though - her saving grace.

 

Black and white

Everyone knows that Great Pyrenees mountain dogs are covered in fluffy white fur so they can blend in with the sheep they guard in the snow.

Unfortunately, the same evolutionary principles that produced the world's whitest dog also provided the breed with a built-in homing device that propels them towards the Pyrenees wherever else in the world you take them. If you foolishly attempt to keep them away from their native habitat (say, by building a large and expensive fence around your garden in Bethesda, Maryland) they will rapidly display the other unmistakeable characteristic of the breed.

They are the world's greatest diggers of holes. Something deep in their canine psyches instructs them, when trapped, to dig like hell in the general direction of the Pyrenees, which from this side of the globe, is downwards.

If only the Kaiser had known what Belle knows about digging trenches, the Germans would never have lost World War One. If only the Americans realised they don't need to send BP to drill for oil in the Arctic - Belle could dig it up in a flash, and guard a herd of reindeer while she's at it.

We have become used to filling in the holes that Belle digs in the garden each day, but the problem arises when a sudden torrential thunderstorm passes overhead, turning her latest would-be escape route into a mudbath.

Sadly, Sylvie failed to spot the danger in time, and allowed Belle outdoors when the rain stopped. She made straight for her newest hole, and worked vigorously for the next half an hour to clear it of water so she could dig even deeper. Then she came and pranced around the deck until we came out to inspect her handiwork. I've just finished hosing it - and her - down.

Good dog, Belle. She was eight months old yesterday.

 

The dog learns to read

Pillow pet

At last we've found a use for the great big lump of fur.

Dog park

The 65-acre field behind our house is home to the transmitting masts of a local radio station, which take up approximately half an acre of space. The other 64 and a half acres belong to Belle, who generously allows other dogs to visit. At certain hours, especially at the weekend, there's a real canine crowd.

Belle is that large white blob to the right, beneath the red tree.

Seven months

We've had a tough month moving house and getting organised, and my camera has barely left its bag. But Belle is continuing to grow, continuing to chew everything around her (including much of the new house) and has quickly become a devoted sentinel, monitoring every movement in the 65-acre field behind us. If a rabbit shivers two miles away,  Belle will attempt to investigate. Our new backyard fence, based on a design at Guantanamo Bay and under construction as I write, probably won't have any effect.

Did I mention that she's continuing to grow ?

Dog-eared

Belle gets jealous when someone else sits next to me.

(Not the best quality iPhone shot, but clever of Sylvie to catch the moment. I think.)