People are always stopping and admiring our dogs – mainly because they are big, white and fluffy. Everyone who stops for a chat tends to say the same thing: must be a nightmare in the mud. Bet they don’t stay white for long…
Actually though, what I’ve come to realise, is that the main problem with them being white isn’t the mud – it’s that it shows up the piss when one pees on the others’ head. Men of a certain age may suffer the dot of shame after a wee. Our dogs suffer the streak of shame on their head. It’s when an admirer’s hand comes in for a rub of their furry top knot – it’s always too late to say: noooo!! Similarly, when they’ve just rolled in fox poo. You try to give people the heads up, but sometimes they’re just too quick and before you know it, they’re in there with their hand, sometimes hands, giving a good old rub. Then they’re off into Waitrose, to rifle through the loose mushrooms and pick out the best peaches.
On our walk this morning the dogs ran off across the rec. “Come on boys!” I shouted – my usual cry. “We’re going as fast as we can!” came a reply from my right. I turned to see a group of about 8 elderly gentlemen with rucksacks and walking boots on, smiling at me with cheeky grins.
On yesterday’s walk my flip flop, that had been well super glued together since dog 2 chewed it a while back, broke. A fellow dog walker questioned my walking bare footed amongst thistles, stinging nettles and dog shit. “You need a pair of Crocs!” she said cheerily. “There is no way on god’s earth that I would EVER be seen dead in a pair of those bloody ugly excuses for footwear!” I replied. As we walked away I noticed that she was wearing a pair of purple ones. Oh crap, I thought to myself. Something bad is going to happen to me.
Not long after this encounter I trod in a small pile of fresh turd. Croc karma, I guess.