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"Roo, the whippet"
Friday 21st May, 2010

You may have noticed that there has been no column from me for a while. The explanation for this is that my secretary [a.k.a. Lord St.G.] has been readying himself for a transplant operation; happily, according to the surgeons the whole procedure has been "an Olympian success". However it has been a most irritating time for me, firstly his various dietary restrictions have meant fewer of the usual tit bits, then during the recent cold winter spell he seldom went out. So I have been spending much of my time on the sofa in front of the fire; not a bad life you might think but being a hunting kind of dog, this way of life goes against my natural instincts.

In the meantime I have made a great discovery, almost an epiphany: Port Eliot now has a Tea Room. Set in a lovely series of buildings, the Stables, designed by Sir John Soane, architecturally speaking these buildings are as good as things get. Meanwhile The Chatte [aka Lady St G] has waved her wand over the interiors and transformed them into something equally as interesting. She has taken antique toys, plus bits and pieces and sofas from all over the House, to which she has added dozens of interesting and curious prints, etchings and photographs. Only being a dog I don’t know much about art but I know when I am in a nice room. The tea rooms do lunch time specials of pies and puddings all home made, as are the big scones and cakes, coffee and walnut seems to be a favourite. But I don’t feel very welcome there, I get abuse and have been ushered out of the kitchens, but the sofa is comfy and I was once given some left over homity pie. Quite what a homity pie is unclear to me. However I have picked up that it is quite as Cornish as a pasty, and tastes good too. Everyone seems to love the Tea Room, and all visitors to the area as well as those to the House are welcome.

The Chatte has recently acquired some lovely white doves and an extremely elegant white dovecote. Doves are usually kept in an aviary for the first couple of months so that they can orient themselves to their new surroundings. These birds are held within a net over the dovecote, that falls deeply draped to the ground forming a large cone shaped space. On their first day, I was sitting nearby a bit like Sylvester eyeing up Tweety Pie, they were pecking about on the ground when suddenly and unexpectedly swooped a sparrow hawk. Incredibly it managed to collar the dove and kill it although the dove was within the netting. The next day it did the very same thing. So a new safer aviary has been made in the shape of a box rather than that of a wig wham. Rather ominously though the hawk has been seen once or twice sitting in a near by tree.

Last year my favourite day of the year was when I hosted my first Dog Festival at Port Eliot, held in aid of the Children's Hospice, South West Precious Lives Appeal. It was such a grand day that we are doing it again, on May 15th at Port Eliot on behalf of the same charity. The event was not a competitive one. It had all kinds of amusing competitions where nearly every dog got a rosette for something. The high light of the event was - and will be again - a Whippet Tea party hosted by me, exclusively for whippets. We were given meat paste sandwiches, dog canapés, chocolate covered Boneos, two kinds of sponge cake topped off with a gigantic pile of pink meringues. Quite staggeringly all the food was gone in under ten minutes. There were roughly 70 of us whippets at the table including one gate crasher in the shape of some kind of terrier who actually jumped on the table. In all there were about 200 plus dogs. It was a curious fact that although there were that many dogs about there were not a single fight and little or no barking. The Dog Festival will be held in the Port Eliot grounds, open 11am. There will be a dog photo booth where us canines can have our portrait taken, stalls, lunches and cream teas and in the later afternoon there is going to be live music in a tent in the Park, going on into the night. Humans and dogs can bring picnics and listen to the music. I do hope many of you will come again and bring some others too.

P.S. I have heard The Chatte talking about a new whippet puppy. This could be hell, but since she talks about a bitch, maybe not. Apparently it is not nice to call a female human being a bitch but it appears that it’s Ok to do so when talking about dogs. This doesn’t seem quite right.

PORT ELIOT DOG FESTIVAL, MAY 15TH, DOORS OPEN 11AM.

"Roo, the whippet"
Western Morning News - Saturday 17th May, 2008

My name is Roo. I am a whippet and I live in a stately home in Cornwall called Port Eliot. I am descended from the long dogs and gazehounds that escorted Genghis Kan in the 14th centaury   when the Mongol Empire ran from China to Hungary. I am part of that noble family related on Afghans Sulkies and the Bouzios.

In terms of pedigree and lineage, by comparison to that of my owners, the 10th Earl of St. Germans and his Countess, they are mere arrivistes. I should point out that it is only the Earl and Countess who think they are my masters, to me they are merely staff. I am the God Emperor of this place. Access all areas.

Frankly this 'opening to the public' malarkey has ruined my life. I used to come and go at will within a 100-acre garden, teaming with squirrels and rabbits. However since ‘They’ have opened up their house, I frequently hear that most dreadest and foul of all the four letter words: - lead. "Where’s the lead?" and another thing, the public have driven away the rabbits leaving just the squirrels and a family of badgers. The squirrels are very canny and hard to catch When I was a puppy I once tried to tackle a badger. I will carry the scars of that encounter to my dieing day.

There is some compensation though; my social life has improved immeasurably. After a great deal of negotiating, I have persuaded the Staff  to allow other dogs to come here. They have even agreed to allow my fellow hounds  to run free without the shackles of that unmentionable word on any Wednesday. Boy is that day fun.

 The other day the Hunt came for a Lawn meet. This was an extreme red letter day for me. Can you believe it there were 38 other dogs. I was so busy cocking my leg everywhere  that I ran out of pee. I followed the hounds for a while but was seen off by the leader of the pack. He condescendingly asked what on earth I thought I was doing running with his pack and if I knew what was good for me I would b***** off.

There are over 500 paintings in this house, six show the same bloody parrot, there eight depicting cows and sheep, there is even one portraying a pile of dead ducks pheasants, pigeons with a heron and a fish. Yet there is only one of a dog and that is kept in an attic. I find this terribly offensive considering how much love and devotion we dogs have given to so many to these Eliots over such a long time. The least they could do is get a painting of one of us up.

But despite all their faults, I love my Cathy and Perry dearly, after all, they do let me sleep on the end of their bed every night.