What a load of b******s!
Or so I thought ……..
The day started well. I was up early, bought my regular Friday morning treat of bacon baguette and coffee from the petrol station and picked up Ozzy, Sam & Gem at 7:45am.
We drove up to Glennifer Braes as usual, and looking to the west, could see that the ‘terribly British’ Storm Abigail (see earlier post) was politely removing her shoes before entering the valley below and heading towards us.
The gentle Gem (yes, she’s a Staffie) could sense its approach. She’s never enjoyed the cold or the rain, and even less so now that she’s getting on in years.
“Do we have to go out?” she pleaded. Well, sort of. She had that plaintive expression on her face – the one that makes you feel so guilty about going against her apparent wishes.
“Hey! What are we waiting for?!” said the ever-bouncy Beardie, Ozzy. “Let’s go!” Oblivious, he was; couldn’t give a jot.
“Have you got biscuits?” asked wee Sam, the ever-hungry Cairn terrier.
I did, of course. I also had my eagerly awaited bacon baguette. Mmmmmnnn!
It was cold! Mind, a bacon butty can never really be ruined. And the upside was that Sam couldn’t smell it, so I managed to eat it in peace as we walked.
We walked our usual route and made it back before Abigail arrived to rain on our parade. Feeling rather smug at having beaten her back to the car, I changed my boots and dropped the baguette wrapper in the litter bin. (Leading Petcare is a socially conscious and eco-friendly business.)
But on my way back to the car ……
Who the heck would go to the bother of removing and stealing the wing mirror cover from a Vauxhall Zafira?! And before 8:40 in the morning? In the middle of bleedin’ nowhere?! It may just be an oddly shaped piece of grey plastic composite, but replacing it later in the day cost £24, plus another £30 to have it spray painted the same colour as the car.
Damn that black cat! I immediately regretted dismissing its influence on Friday 13th.
Beautiful creatures as they are, some dogs harbour questionable habits.
For the information of those reading this blog who don’t own dogs, rabbits or dung beetles, ‘coprophagia’ is not the name of a herb-infused Italian flat-bread.. It is the act of eating one’s own faeces. Or that of another.
It sounds pretty disgusting, and is. Well, I can imagine. For us humans, anyway. Not that I’ve tried it.
But it’s a common practice for some dogs. And much as the thought of it makes me want to ‘chuck,’ a dog’s habit can be nurtured for good use.
At this time of year, with so many different coloured leaves on the ground, it can often be hard to tell exactly where various members of the pack have, erm, done their business, so to speak. Even with a keen sense of smell, it can prove difficult to pinpoint the deposit that requires to be bagged and binned.
Send for Big Louis! He loves a good bit of steaming poo! (Sorry to be so graphic, but such is the life of a dog walker.)
Fortunately, he’s not as possessive over this as he is over a tennis ball (Big Louis -v- Marley is a story for another day) and once he’s identified the spot, I can usually intercept before he tucks in.
Thanks Big Louis. A clean park is a happy park and all that.
Never let it be said that Big Louis is a ‘limelight’ case: