The Little Bear Dog Blog

We’ve just returned from a lovely Easter break in Wiltshire. Part recce for a future home, part anniversary present from very thoughtful other half, we spent three nights in the lovely Glebe House bed and breakfast in the quiet hamlet of Chittoe. 

Glebe House

Being thoughtful, other half found a dog friendly B&B so that Little Bear could come too.  Now as anyone with a less than perfectly behaved dog will testify, these occasions can fill you with dread.

It’s one thing having a reactive, frequently disobedient dog when home is only a stone’s throw away, quite another as a guest in someone elses’ home for three full days.

My plan B was for LB to stay with his much adored dog sitter, Sharon.  He loves other dogs once he overcomes his lack of confidence on the greeting and at Sharon’s, would have at least four pals to play with.  He’d get three-hour walks in the forest with his friends and after a long day’s playing, would get to sleep on her bed – something he’s not allowed to do at home.

I made the booking reassured that he’d have a lovely time and that we could have a few days respite.  We’d be able to go out to dinner (something extremely difficult with a dog in tow, especially a noisy one), could go into shops and galleries together and best of all, we wouldn’t have to walk everywhere with coat pockets stuffed with tennis balls, poo bags and smelling like a deli.

Typically I felt slightly guilt ridden – I’ve no idea why as I don’t think he gives us a second thought while he’s at the sitters.  The last time I picked him up he made a huge fuss of me then went off to lay on the sofa with his fury friends and refused resolutely to budge.  I had to carry him to the car. He then sulked all evening and was still grumpy the next day.

Unfortunately though, Sharon succumbed to a flu bug and couldn’t take him at the last-minute. So, LB was coming to Wiltshire after all.

Glebe House

Glebe House is beautiful.  It’s a large cottage that feels like a stately home in miniature.  There’s a grand piano and a roaring log fire in the drawing-room and the walls are covered in an eclectic mix of art and family photographs.  The overall effect is stunning and you get the feeling of being very much immersed in the history of an old English family (the Scrope’s have lived in the area for over 500 years).

En route to the house we had stopped off along the way to explore the local forests and LB had found his most favourite thing in the world – a very large, very boggy puddle of thick black mud. 

Apparently, tennis balls require proper ‘seasoning’ in a mud marinade before they’re worthy of chasing.  Throw him a new, just out of the packet one and he’ll spit it out as if it’s been poisoned and even well-loved ones need topping up from time to time.  So back in the forest he had a wonderful time poking said tennis ball deep into the mud and then sticking his nose in after it to retrieve it tail wagging enthusiastically and stopping here and there to give it a waterlogged squeak.  He does the same thing in snow but that leaves him a lot cleaner.

So, we turn up at the beautiful house with a Mini Schnauzer who’s had a hasty spit and polish to try to remove the worst of the mud caked onto his beard and legs.  As I towelled his feet off for the umpteenth time that day my heart sank at the thought of trying to keep him clean (and off the sofas) for three whole days.  My heart dropped another inch as we were shown to our gorgeous bedroom, complete with whiter than white crisp clean bed linen. 

Suddenly, staying home seemed like such a good idea…