Every morning at 4am, Henry, my 3 year old 45kg Weimeraner hears something, throws the blankets off me and the elderly fat wiener dogs sharing the bed, and starts WHOO HOO’ing at whatever he fancies is stalking the occupants of 8 Nuneham road. In South Africa none of this is far fetched, and we do well to switch on the light, load the gun, and peer into the gloom. After doing the check about, letting all those willing to make toilet visits complete their respective missions, we reassemble the bed and its occupants, and attempt resumption of our REM slitherings into … Continue reading Whoo Hoo = hound bark