Don't Be A Stranger

The windchill of a strong breeze instantly dropped the temperature even further below zero. The sun composed a scenery worthy of a beautiful day in Summer and only the freezing cold reminded me we were in the heart of Winter.

Welcome, Maybe

Who's visiting?

We were preparing the guest room, and Tilde knows what that means. The anticipation of guests arriving thrilled her. Or was it skepticism, as she wasn't involved in the invitation?

Hovawart TV: Beach Blooper

My famous last words: "Come down to the beach Tilde!"

Hova...What?

You could be actually reading this because you have just run into a beautiful dog, that looked a lot like a retriever.

Maybe you had a talk with the owner, who explained it was not a retriever, but a ... what was it she said ... a Hova...What? ... ah yes, a Hova...Wart.

Pet Blogger Challenge: The Blog After Kenzo

As you can see, Tilde isn't pleased she will not be the subject of this post.

Today we join the Pet Blogger Challenge, an event where pet bloggers share experiences and tips about blogging.

For you blogger friends reading this, grab a coffee and your "what-not-to-do" list and let's go!

A Hovawart Was Born After All

The three of us reached a clearing in the forest we were hiking. Tilde, Dok-dek, and me. Dok-dek was our guest on the West-coast for the week, to escape the noise of the New Year's celebratory fireworks of the city. It was freezing cold, -5 C with a sturdy breeze. The clearing we entered offered no refuge for the sudden drop in temperature caused by the wind chill. I put my hat back on, looked down in an attempt to keep the wind out of my face and stepped up the pace to reach the other side of the clearing.

The Mighty Hunter

While we walked past some bushes along the trail it was as if a fish hook had caught Tilde's nose. In a split-second she made a sharp, almost cat-like turn. Her head positioned perfectly aligned with her body. Her intense facial expression and the focus in her eyes left no doubt. She was on a hunt, but what? and where? I looked around me but couldn't see anything, until a dark shadow jumped out of the small bush right in front of me and made me look down.

The Wild Thing And The Distinguished Gentleman

When Tilde and me were driving on our way to meet Baxter the Hovawart I was filled with anticipation. Baxter would be one of the few 13½ year aged Hovawarts I would have the privilege of meeting face to face.

The Lost Grandchild, Tilde's Roots

Family: Tilde, Eska, and Candi

Standing in front of the gate I thought it was just how I imagined the place would look like. A painting of rural contentment, with a lot of land, animals, and patrolled by two Hovawarts. In many ways, it embodied the Hovawart dream, the medieval tale of the "Hofwart" alive in modern times.

You Get The Hovawart You Want

"Tilde!" A handful of sand hit me on the back of my head, and I felt it seeping down my neck where it changed the inside of my jacket's color into a piece of sandpaper. I reached out for Tilde, who was digging a sandpit behind me, when the next salvo hit my outreached hand and the sand continued its path up my sleeve.