Monday, December 18, 2006

Walkies

The last thing Daughter said before leaving Holly in our care was 'Don't let her get pregnant!'

To avoid such misfortune we've been walking her where we're unlikely to meet many other dogs: over the tip aka the bog. In places the mud comes halfway up my calves and I have been in serious danger of losing my wellies.

Holly brings me a stick; she drops it at my feet. I pick it up, draw back my arm and fling the stick with all my might. It slips out my hand and lands seven feet in front of me.

My alternative to the slip-and-slide throw is the up-and-under where a speedy little brown bullet arrives before the stick does and is likely to be banged on the bonce when it lands. She perseveres with me though. Harvey learned long ago that anything I throw is not worth expending energy on.

We come back along the valley where the river is high and running fast and muddy. It doesn't deter Holly who flings herself in with never a thought for crocodiles. I say, 'What will I tell your mummy if you are eaten by crocodiles?'
Holly says, 'Pah, I laugh in the face of crocodiles.'

I don't think she has ever seen one. Harvey agrees with me when I tell him about it on our return home. The walk is one of our old haunts, one of his favourites when he could manage more than just round the playing fields.

Now they are both sitting at my feet - actually Holly is sitting under the desk preventing me from getting close to the keyboard. 'It's not time for tea yet.'

2 comments:

Welshcakes Limoncello said...

That's a lovely post and I felt I was there with you! Holly sounds adorable and Simi says "Hi" to her and Harvey.

Anonymous said...

Swiming in winter. That had to be cold. Nice looking dogs.