Wordless Wensleydale

Fred Basset Friday

Wordless Wensleydale

Fred Basset Friday

Dedicated to Hannah, Erica, Kateland, Darrien and Danielle.

Wordless Wensleydale

Tree Farm Sunday

A long snowy road at the tree farm, to me, is just like the beach at Little Dog Lake. Don't be fooled by my short awkward legs and floppy feet, this Gromit can run. Claire and I left Clifford at home with Hannah to do whatever it is he does, and went for a run at the tree farm with Mum and Dad.

Claire spent most of her time leaping into the deep fields and rolling ridiculously in the snow. I've never been much of a snow roller. Sometimes I pretend to be a snow plough, but mostly I prefer to stick with the roads and paths - where my legs don't get stuck.

We traveled a different road through the tree farm this time, past the tree shipping and cone receiving, across a sea of trees from our usual trail through the pine plantation. As if there wasn't already enough snow for Claire, more was coming down blanketing my forest laboratory.

After all the running around that day I was too tired to defend myself against a bath. I suspect it was just another attempt by Dad to enhance my wonderful Gromit smell. Everybody seems to approve, and have commented on how soft my freckly fur is, so I'm not going to complain.

Wordless Wensleydale

Fred Basset Friday

Bottled Gromit

I smell good. My Mum and Dad tell me so. They say there's something special about my morning Basset smell, and the way I smell after a good snooze.
It's not that I'm particularly clean either, Dad has been saying I need a bath - but he still likes the way I smell. Mum even gave me tummy raspberries the other morning!
I haven't exactly been out rolling in poop either. Dad always cleans it all up before I get a chance, (and Mum thanks him for that). Besides, I haven't been into rolling in poop since I was a puppy.


Dad's been talking about bottling my Basset smell. He thinks there might be a profit in my essence.

It wouldn't have some fancy eau de French name, 'cause I'm not that kind of guy.

It might come in a fancy jar and label version, (a marketing ploy used to lure the type who choose to buy bottles&things for their labels).

But also a simple mason jar version for the non-fancy types.

Dad thinks my smell is simply the best smell.

He compares it to a fine wine.

My smell is best developed while sleeping.

Preferably in sunbeams.

Or by soaking up the evening sun on the back balcony.

It develops well when I snooze under Mum's desk.

(She loves me when I sleep under her desk.)

Above all, my enchanting aroma is developed best in bed, while snuggling.

My bottled smell would come in two flavours. 

And would be compared to such smells as Hannah's freshly baked cookies.

I think Dad might be on to something. The question is...how to extract my special Gromit aroma? 

...to be continued...

Wordless Wensleydale

a very dear Season for Cucumbers

I enjoy gardening.
If I had thumbs, they would be green.
I'm going over some seed catalogs with Mum and helping to plan this year's garden. Clifford only cares about the tomatoes, while Claire and I are very interested in cucumbers. I have been eight dog years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which are to be put into vials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw, inclement summers (or long cold winters).

There was a container of strawberries that Hannah planted last summer that I would like to see again. I enjoyed taste testing the berries as they grew, even Hannah's very first strawberry of the year. I didn't even get in trouble for it because Hannah said I was "too cute to be mad at." It was all in the name of science.

She wouldn't have known it was me had I not got caught in the act by Mum and her camera:

Because of that, I've learned it's important to stay close to the garden at all times, waiting for the perfect opportunity to step in and take a taste when no one is looking.. 

This year I will have my little brother Clifford (who is a small, sneaky super spy) to help capture the little cherry tomatoes, and assist me in my laboratory with the cucumbers.

Spring is just around the corner. It feels good to be prepared.

dedicated to 

Jonathon Swift.

Wordless Wensleydale