I’ve got into the habit of taking portraits of our two Beaglets each year around their birthdays. I like to have a record of how they’re changing through the years, and anyway it’s usually good fun. This time around though it proved to be a little more painful, and a lot more costly, than on previous occasions.

I started out with an action shot of the Biggly boy doing what he does best – grabbing socks. I turned our little gym room into a set with a washing line, socks and old-school sprung wooden pegs, and then when all the lighting was ready, let his Biggleship in to see it. I was somewhat concerned that being a contrary little Beagle he might just refuse to go after the socks while the camera was on him, but no, he got straight to it. In fact he snatched the socks with such enthusiasm that I got hit right on the forehead by one of the spring pegs!

Back when he was a very little boy, Biggles used to be possessive and growly over anything he grabbed, but with the help of a behaviorist we turned this around and the “Biggles Exchange Program” was born. Ever since then he’s been the perfect little canine entrepreneur, eagerly gathering up loose socks and other unguarded items and exchanging them for treats and tummy tickles. In times of recession (like when we got a bit better at picking up dirty clothes and popping them into the “to be washed” basket), he adapted, learning to open my underwear drawer and nicking clean socks instead. So I guess it’s understandable that a few lights and cameras wouldn’t put him off a solid business opportunity!

When we moved on to his more traditional portrait session, Biggles was equally business-like. Initially he only let me have one click of the shutter before he dived down off his comfy buffet and demanded a biscuit in payment. It took some pretty tough negotiation involving dried fish cubes and part of a chew before I finally got him to hold still for three shots between treats, but it was worth it.

And this is one of the outtakes, but he looked so cute I decided to keep it..

Beanie – who’s going to be seven(!) in less than a month – was the most surprising this time around. In previous years she behaved like a stroppy fashion model, complaining about the conditions and the amount of time the shoot was taking. Judging by the amount of wailing and woofing that occurred, I think she also had dreams of embarking on a singing career. This time around however she was almost perfectly behaved, calmly jumping up onto the buffet and holding still for as long as I wanted. I did say “almost perfectly behaved” of course; at one point while I was reviewing her shots she stuck her snout in my pocket and nicked my stash of poo bags. I recovered them, but the next day when putting said bags to use I discovered that she’d put some holes in them. Still, one very thorough hand wash later I was good to go again. Word to the wise: never shake hands with me when I’ve been walking the dogs!

Until our recent trip to the Isle of Kerrera, Beanie & Biggles probably considered themselves to be experts when it comes to ferries. They’d ridden on them twice to Arran and once to Iona, and those trips had taught them everything they needed to know, specifically: (1) ferries have railings that are wide enough apart for you to stick your head through and most importantly (2) they have seats. Seats are great because the resourceful Beagle can forage around underneath them, often finding discarded sandwiches, crumbs from cakes and biscuits, and on a really good day, the occasional chip. You can imagine their surprise then when we told them they were having another ferry ride, but they ended up on this thing..

It was small, open to the water at one end, had no railings for nosey Beagles to stick their heads through and worst of all, no seats. I mean what use is a ferry like that?

I am not impressed Dad. Not impressed at all.

To his credit, Biggles tried to make the best of the situation. With no seats, perhaps there’d still be some foraging opportunities in the captain’s cabin? He strode confidently towards the doorway, but even this meager hope was denied him; apparently there’s some silly rule about cheeky Beagle boys not being allowed to captain passenger ferries (not even boys who’ve recently turned six years old). To make matters worse Beanie noticed a big orange ball thing on a rope giving her the evil eye and had to woof at it. In the end the only good thing about the ferry ride for the Beagle contingent was that it was over quickly.

Finally back on dry(ish) land!

The ferry issue was bad, but there was an even bigger problem with the Isle of Kerrera itself.  While researching it as a location for a day trip we’d considered almost everything about it, except its primary industry: sheep farming. Needless to say it was absolutely overrun with sheep, and it wasn’t long before Beanie & Biggles felt the need to speak out (rather loudly I might add) about this woolly infestation. They were both silenced, albeit briefly, on the approach to an old wreck on the coastline.

It wasn’t the imposing sight of the wreck that shut them up, but rather the noises coming from a nearby house equipped with an aviary and a dog with a booming voice. Susan figured it was the dog that left our pups speechless, but I disagreed; Biggles will happily indulge in name calling with much larger dogs so long as they’re behind a stout fence, which was the case here. No, there was no doubt in my mind that the cause of the short-lived Beagle silence was a particularly gobby parrot. I can’t speak parrot, and I’m pretty sure Beanie & Biggles can’t either, but we didn’t need subtitles to tell us that he (or she) was screeching some very disparaging remarks about us. Our pups didn’t descend to the parrot’s level; instead they quietly continued on their way with their heads held high and their dignity intact, pausing only to snack on a bit of cow poo.

The main attraction on Kerrera was always going to be the beautiful ruins of Gylen Castle. Built in a readily defensible position by the rugged coastline, the remains of the castle are open to all visitors. Unfortunately Beanie & Biggles couldn’t be among those visitors. We struggled through the gauntlet of sheep to an excellent outdoor tea & coffee shop, but the short route from there to the castle was particularly sheep-infested, so Susan & the pups camped out while I went in solo to get a few shots.

The approach to Gylen Castle

Inside, the roof clearly needs work

From a distance it appears that the castle has been built on a rocky cliff-like outcrop

It’s only when you go through one of the passageways beneath it that you realize the truth: the castle’s foundations aren’t rock, but densely packed sheep & cow poo. I know this because I spent a couple of minutes wiping said poo off my shoes and the feet of my tripod once I made it to the grass on the other side.

It wasn’t just the poo castle that Beanie & Biggles missed out on however. On the way to the castle there was a composting toilet, and I paid it a visit. I’d never used a composting toilet before, and without going into the details I can tell you I will never use one again, at least not without a hazmat suit, but it would have been a huge hit with the Beagles.

The journey back to the ferry went more smoothly than expected even though we passed by plenty of sheep. Maybe Beanie & Biggles had become acclimated to the island’s scents; maybe the way we kept rewarding their self restraint with chunks of our sandwiches also helped. Regardless, we made it to the ferry without any further woofy outbursts, and on the way back to the mainland Beanie even nabbed a stray Rolo that a previous passenger had dropped. Would you give someone your last Rolo? Beanie wouldn’t.

The Kerrera debacle was at least partially compensated for by a pleasant return visit to the miniature loch at Coire Ardair. Just as on our previous visit, the area around the loch was overcast and chilly, while elsewhere was sunny and much warmer. Maybe those high cliff walls create their own micro-climate. One thing’s for sure, Beanie & Biggles definitely enjoyed romping through the heather!

And finally, a parting shot from the Falls of Falloch. We’ve driven past the signs for this attraction countless times on our way up north, but this was the first time I’d actually stopped off for a visit. It’s not a good place for a walk – the falls are barely 2 minutes from the car park – but it’s certainly worth stopping there for a look!

What bounces like a soggy tennis ball, smells like a fish and looks like a poo gone wrong? Answer: the “cake” I made for Biggles’ sixth birthday.

I’ve always been a crap cook, but it seems I’m even worse at baking. I don’t even know where I went wrong. I had two world-leading experts in bakery consumption check my preparations at every stage, and they gave their seal of approval every time. In fact they would have been quite happy to have the cake even before I flung it in the microwave and nuked it (and isn’t that how all the best baking is done?)

Sardines, an egg and some flour. How hard can this baking thing be?

Please can I have it now Dad? Please?

Let me have a quick taste Dad. Just one small lick, I promise.

In fact when we had the ritual bowl lick-out while the microwave was running, I had a bit of a struggle preventing the Birthday Boy from running off with it into the garden. And yet, despite all these promising signs, the actual cake ended up looking like a sickly Labrador poo with a cowpat stuck on top. Fortunately that’s exactly the kind of thing Beanie & Biggles love to eat, so it went down rather well.

Another thing that went down well was Biggles’ birthday present. Meet Ally, a two-and-a-half foot long cuddly alligator with an incredible 16 squeakers and – just like a real alligator – a rattler in his head.

Ally is quickly unwrapped..

And after a tentative first examination, play begins!

Is Biggles actually trying to impersonate his new toy?

He must be, because that’s definitely the “death roll” he’s doing there.

So it looks like Ally’s a big hit with my boy, good enough to rival the squeaky monkey he got for his last birthday. The same unfortunately cannot be said for Beanie’s “unbirthday” present. If you’ve seen those crinkly, squeaky “Noah” owl toys in your local supermarket and wondered just how tough they are, wonder no more.

Beanie means business – this owl is in for a testing time

Two minutes into play. Already there’s a rip and the white stuff is being extracted..

Looks like nurse Beanie has lost another patient. But at least she’s harvesting the viable organs for a possible transplant.

That’s the squeaker accounted for; now it’s time to deal with the crinkly stuff – just like the crisp packets that Beanie likes tearing up!

Almost done..

The owl’s toast and Beanie’s just getting warmed up! Never mind Beanie, you can always have another slice of my poo cake