FRIDAY 5th Feb: 1st Great (doggie) Train Journey
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Cato:
Tara was BAD. Very bad. And then she was Naughty.
We went in the car to the station, then 2 trains. At the first station we had a mini walk because Dad was worried that Tara hadn't had a wee and would go on the train. I had weeed earlier, so I was good. But then I had a poo. Just in case. Cos I am good. This was a lump, with car tyres, next to a football pitch near the station. It was odd. So we all had to climb it.
There was a man walking across the field and he asked wot kind of dogs we are. So Dad said 'Shih Tzu' and the man thought he was swearing. Then they had a laugh.
Then we got on the train.
The first train was horrible. The floor was dirty and Tara ate something but no one knows what it was, even Tara. And I hated it. Tara whined and hid under the seat, and I crouched down under Mum's legs. We were close to the doors, and I could see out, and into the next carriage, and everything was shaking around, and it was horrible.
Then we got off, at York Station. It was busy, but cleaner, and we all had Burgerking. This is when we were standing waiting for the burgers. It was bustley, but better than the train. And several people said 'hello', and 2 girls shrieked at how cute we were, and 3 children wanted to stroke us. And Tara licked and licked a toddler, and the toddler's Mum laughed and said 'she tastes of icecream!
The next train was better though. It had a carpet, was less rattley and Tara and I could sit together and snuggle. Mum and Dad carried us on and off the trains cos of the gap between the platform and the step. It is scary, and I won't jump up because there are monsters under the train.
We arrived in Scarborough and Mum and Dad thought we should go on the beach before the hotel, so we could 'work off the stress' in 'familiar environment'. This is when Tara got very, very BAD.
This is the beach:
It is dark cos it WAS dark. The light was going, and the clouds made it dark.
Tara ran a long way away, and climbed these steps. I only went that far to see she was ok. She climbs EVERYTHING.
But she climbed and climbed, and wouldn't get down. And Mum said 'leave her, she will come back down if we walk off' but I had climbed a bit too. And I was a bit stuck. But she wouldn't come down. And she was cheeky. She just kept going higher, and it could have been a road up there. So Dad had to come fetch us.
And this is where she got REALLY bad. She wouldn't let him catch her. I only went up to help. But she was dancing around and in the end Dad had to bring us both down the long way.
This was our hotel. Big, isn't it? It is very old. Even older than Mum and Dad's Mums and Dads.
We went up the cliff to the hotel in the vertical train tram thing to the right of this picture. It was weird, but Mum carried me, so it was OK.
It is A Victorian Monstrosity, Mum says, with Vulgar PsudoVictorian Paintwork, but Dad loves the food, and the rooms are clean and warm. And they allow us dogs in. We all think it is a great hotel.
Tara was Naughty-Bad in the hotel too.
Tara:
I was NOT naughty in the hotel. I was doing my duty. Just because Cato was tired and a slug, and I had to step up to guard duty, and barked when people went past, he says I was naughty. But I wasn't. I was protecting our Hotel Den and warning Mum and Dad that people might be trying to get in. Besides there was another dog down the corridor, and he was barking too! So really, I was beeing GOOD, wasn't I. Aunties? It would have been irris- irres- pons- it would have been a bad thing if I hadn't protected us. All evening. And half the night. Sitting by the door and sniffing under it. Until Mum got up and tied me to the leg of her bed and built me a pen with the rucksacks and the chair. And then we all went to sleep.
Anyway. It isn't as if I have a LOUD bark, is it?
This is me and Dad and Cato on one of the teensy beds. I am watching the door, in case we are attacked.
Mum:
Sorry if this blog is a little less coherent than usual. A bit sleep deprived.
Thought you might like this photo too.
It is from the wall at the back of the beach, Victorian, and must have (once upon a time) been a water fountain or drainage pipe from the cliff above. I just loved the age of it, and the fact that, like all the best Victorian workmanship, it is still working - water was actually dribbling from the arch, and the green algae is proof that it works well! 
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