Chipping in to do my bit for dogs’ welfare

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I have to report that the free microchipping event in Galashiels was a runaway success –110 dogs were chipped, vet checked, patted on the heid and barked their wee hearts out.

Isn’t it the case that wee dugs make the most noise, while douce labs sit, well, just douce.

I am not negotiating with the Dogs’ Trust – to whom a big, big thanks – for more sessions.

On the agenda in coming months will be free chips at Peebles, Penicuik and Newtongrange – at least that’s the plan. I’ll let you know the dates/times/places when these are firmed up in case you missed out in Galashiels.


Some of you may recall that when I came into parliament I adopted two little cats, Newton (Newt) and Boswell (Bossie), from – well, you can guess.

Both are now approaching 15 and in cat years they are gie auld. Newt has recently been to the vets (big bill!) and I put on a cool face when actually I was up to high doh.

When he had to stay overnight and be put on a drip, I asked how he was, and said: “He hasn’t stayed away from home overnight before.”

Why, oh why, do I 
persist in having pets when you have this worry and heartache as the years roll by?

All Burns-out

While I’m on the subject of ageing – of cats and things generally – I find as the years roll by that although I like haggis, it doesn’t like me.

There is the odd un-spiced variety which I can stomach – just – but I’m quickly finding the neeps and tatties quite enough.

Indeed I feel a Toast to the Heartburn coming on. Literally.

But at least at a recent Burns supper the Immortal Memory lasted just shy of 10 minutes. Quite long enough.

I was once at a Burns supper which went on so long the speaker was heckled. That was a first.

By the way, I was not the heckler.

More animal stuff

Did you know that the pest controllers here are now using “laser pens” on pigeons?

Apparently they just drop out of the sky. Dead – the pigeons of course, not the pens.

Now the ethics of this can be challenged, but it follows the failure of the hired hawks to rid us of our feathered fiends. They were seen off by the Scottish gulls – probably flown in from Eyemouth where they grow to a humongous size – some hawks never to fly back again.

You know, I find that quite cheering.