Owning a Bloodhound

 After writing about what it is like to own a staffie, I thought it would be great to expand this and focus on other breeds as well. SFL rounded up a few other bloggers to tell us about what it is like to own their dog.

 This will be a weekly feature, each week showing a different breed.

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Hi SFL readers, I’m Kate from a Peony for your Thoughts where I blog about being a newlywed, my puppy, and just life in general.   When Megan asked me to blog about my puppy I said of course, because talking about my adorable puppy is what I do best! 

“Why a Bloodhound?”  It’s probably the single most asked question we get about our pup.  We don’t really have a good answer, other than I love hound dogs (we had a beagle growing up) and how could we resist a face this cute?  

But people do stop to ask what kind of dog Henry is every time we go anywhere.  At first people thought he was a basset hound, we were tempted to tell people that he was but that he just kept getting taller and we didn’t know why! ;)   My other favorite thing to joke is that we’re combing the park for missing people because he’s got his nose to the ground most times when we walk.  

Besides being completely adorable, hounds can definitely be stubborn.   Henry can be really bull-headed once he gets set on something (jumping on the couch – which we don’t allow, trying to steal items off the counter, etc).  But for all his stubbornness he definitely looks to us for direction and wants to please us. 

 So I know we need to just keep at his obedience training, and be persistent.  With a dog who could potentially reach 140lbs we need him to be well-behaved.   Already, at 6 months and 70lbs, he can pull me around when we don’t have him in his Easy Walk harness.  

We’re having a tough time with his teething, he gets crazy at night – we call it his terror hour – and he nips relentlessly.  We’ve tried many different distraction techniques, with not much luck.  It’s just typical mischievous puppy behavior, but he’s a huge puppy so it can be daunting.    We’re also working on him not jumping on us and guests.   But for all his bad puppy habits, he has one of the sweetest personalities.  He is a totally love bug, and a real people “person”.    

Oh, and how could I forget the one characteristic that we didn’t really bank on: SLOBBER!   We have designated drool towels, and he has to be wiped after he drinks or strings of water/drool follow him wherever he goes.  If we’re on a walk I worry that people might think he’s rabid, since he’s foaming at the mouth!  He especially likes to wipe his face on the couch after drinking – it’s lovely.  We did research bloodhounds before we got him, and most things we found said the amount of slobber depended on genetics.  I guess Henry had some slobbery parents!  

We keep joking that a baby will seem easy after this!  At least a baby won’t be trying to eat the couch (we hope)!  But for all his quirks and bratty antics we love this puppy a whole lot. 

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Thanks for sharing Kate! Henry seems like such a lovebug!

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Cape Vidal

This is a bit of a throwback, but back in August, when we were in St Lucia, we also took a drive through the estuary, which includes a game reserve and Cape Vidal, which in a few words is simply amazing.

I just had to share these photos.

We spent most of the day just splashing around in the rock pools, trying to catch little fish, sticking our fingers in anemones {or amenemies as Nemo would say it}, chasing crabs for a photo or two and well, doing a bit of illegal stuff.

Flip found a few mussels on the rocks and decided that he wanted to make us Mussels in White Wine sauce for dinner. I protested by not eating it. What if I got some sort of tummy bug from eating mussels that weren't made {came out of a box} in a restaurant? haha

 

Lastly, I take all my photos myself. And this stunner of a photo above {even if I say so myself} was also taken by me. Unfortunately, on my mom's camera. We have the same brand and get easily confused. She emailed it to me, and this is the size it came in. Pity.

the day I had to walk to work

Mondays are generally blue by nature. It's the first day of the workweek and you are away from your family and friends, pets and cozy house. Usually, it sucks.

But today, my Monday sucked extra hard. I live about six kilometres from my office. Not far in Joburg standards but seriously not close enough to walk, but this morning I had no choice. My cellphone had broken last week, after I accidentally dropped it, but with a force hard enough to crack the screen and make its brains go haywire. Then my simcard started getting rejected by other cellphones, which means that I have been stuck without any phone.

I was planning on getting it fixed this afternoon. Anyway, so as Flip leaves, and my friend/colleague Idele drives off, I finish up for work, gather my last things and head out the door, about five minutes after they left. But my car keys are nowhere to be found.

I finally figure that they are in Flip's car, because I left them there this weekend. I'm stuck.

Finally, I decide that I have to get to work so I started walking. In heels. Wrong move number one.
I then decided that heels are not going to carry me the whole six kays, so eventually started walking barefoot. Wrong move number two. I am now sitting with blisters making it nearly impossible to walk.

Yes, there are millions of people who have to walk to work everyday and do not complain about it. They even have to walk further than I did. But, I'm not used to it. I'm probably a bit pampered in this sense.

What pissed me off the most, is while I'm walking in tears {because my ego was a bit more bruised that my feet} with my shoes in my hand, about 100 cars passed me, not one stopping to find out what the matter was. And I mean, I'm in business attire, not just some random.

Even worse, while walking, some men {would rather like to call them pigs} had the audacity to hoot at me, wave, catcall and almost giving me stares that would, in their minds, make my clothes fall off. They could see that I was in a state, crying and walking with a limp, but would they stop? No!

I stuck out my thumb, like a hitch hiker and still nothing. What is wrong with society? I'm not blowing my own horn, but when I see people struggling next to the road, I stop and hear if I can help, so much so that Flip has practically forbidden me to do it, in fear that something might happen to me.

I still do it though.

At least I do have a kindhearted Samaritan, in the form of Flip. After phoning him from the office, he brought my car and my keys to me and bought me a pair of fluffy slippers, so that I wouldn't have to walk barefoot anymore. Heels were definitely not on my list anymore.

I love my knight in shining armour.

Sunday munch

After a harrowing evening at a beerfest and a whole day of paintball for Flip last week Saturday, neither of us felt like practicing our debuts on Come Dine with Me or Masterchef and decided to head out in search of a proper Sunday lunch, or a carvery.

I suggested a place close to home, but after much resistance from Flip, who dubbed the place a feeding pit, we grabbed the Google machine. "I don't feel like looking like a pig a trough," he said.

I typed in 'Sunday Lunch JHB' and after about five seconds we decided on a place in the CBD of Johannebsurg. "We're going to get raped of hijacked here today," Flip said on the drive, but I reassured him that we would be safe at Arts on Main.

After finding parking and making our way through an eternal maze of little arty shops, we found the holy grail,  The Canteen. Good vibes, good food, good service. But I did feel a little overwhelmed by the smells and the music.

The restaurant is situated in a quad, where you would find a mix of Joburg's finest. There was the I-wear-wayfarers-and-cigar pants-people, the families you would find in health care ads, an old lady who dresses like a hipster and a whole lot of people who love their neutrals.

We sat in the shade of the waiflike olive trees and listened to music from four different corners. We could smell our own food, but at the same time our smelling senses got smacked by the incense from the Ethiopian "coffee shop" a few metres away. I use shop lightly, as it was actually a bunch of crates with pillows on top.

Lunch was followed by another trip through the "hoi-polloi flee market" (Flip's words), where we found upside down herb gardens, beautiful clothing, chilli chocolate and a not-so-nice t shirt.

My first time wasn't prolific, but isn't that what Sundays are about?