
A FORTNIGHT ago I wrote about the West Dart water terrier whose name, it transpires, was Tigger. I now have a photo of Tigger, and without question he was the archetypal hideous hound. He had an undershot jaw and there’s a wild, bite-yer-leg look on his face which says that he preferred to get his own way. His mixed background, resulting from hastily engaged in unions, happens all too easily in the dog world unless great vigilance on the owners’ part is exercised. (…read on »)

IT’S BEEN a mixter-maxter last few days, weatherwise. I really hoped the snow would lie for a little longer than it did. I like the snow. We Scots have an affinity with snow and winter weather. I, and lots of folk my age, have happy memories of being out in the snow, and the fun we had sledging, snowballing, and – heaven preserve us – making icy slides in the school playground! (…read on »)

A RED squirrel up a Monkey Puzzle tree – well, in the depths of the Angus winter I suppose you don’t expect to see the monkey. It was Emma who spotted it first and we all clustered round and craned our necks to see him. It was a bit too much attention and he – or perhaps it was she – shot off up the trunk to the safety of the upper branches. (…read on »)

A RUNAWAY railway carriage powered, seemingly, by some supernatural force rolled down the road ahead of me, like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe tale of mystery and imagination. As we were so close to Brechin I bet myself it was heading for the old Caledonian Station, operated and maintained by the volunteers of the Brechin Railway Preservation Society. So I followed it, and I was right. (…read on »)