Well November draws to a close with wind, rain and hail. Storms are battering the coast all over the UK. The staff think that this is really October weather but since I’ve been here less than a year it’s all I know so I’m assuming this is normal whatever normal is. The staff seem to be acquiring a lot of new wet weather gear using me as an excuse ‘cos they ‘need to be weatherproof’ when taking me for my daily exercise don’t they? No mention of getting me any wet weather togs I note. I just have to use my double layer of coat and lump it. Luckily I’m young, vibrant and life is so interesting I don’t notice any change in the external conditions. I’m just glad to be immersed in the new and exciting smells that I come across every time I’m abroad either on the heath or the beach.
|Yours truly, channeling Narcissus at Little Sea, Studland|
A recent trip over the heathland at Hartland Moor gave me the opportunity to meet some new animals that I hadn’t come across though I’ve attempted to sample their pooh up at Durleston a time or two much to the staff’s disgust. These dudes were big and white with black noses and were damned inquisitive, a bit intimidating if I’m brutally honest. They made a bee line for us from across the field even though we weren’t any kind of threat they headed for us en masse lickety split. Luckily the butler had been scared witless by similar intimidation as a pup and was more than able for them, keeping them at bay while the maid and I crossed a convenient gate and I could swear at them from a distance and with a gate between us so that was cool (more of gates later). Have to say there was something niggling at the back of my brain all the while a bit like the upright posts and trees thing. A strange impulse to get in among them and nip a few heels. I resisted of course and the niggle subsided but I have a feeling that these atavistic urges will surface again and probably get me into all sorts of bother. The urge to be close enough to legs and feet to administer some dental encouragement is strong and is already drawing some fairly choice language from the staff as they trip over me with monotonous regularity. The butler, in particular, has a pretty comprehensive lexicon of choice phrases that I’m sure would not go down well in mixed company. Luckily my language skills are pretty poor but the tone is sufficiently dire for me to give him as wide a berth as I can. My resolve to stay away from his feet lasts about 5 minutes max then the old atavistic urges kick in (an appropriate phrase that) and I’m threading my way between his feet again. It makes a dull walk quite entertaining. Strange, when I’m on the lead I pull like a sled dog but off the lead, have this irresistible magnetic attraction to feet that gets me into trouble every time. It’s been remarked more than once by the staff that I’m a contrary little mutt.
This morning we headed to Studland Bay for a brisk, and I mean brisk, trip along the sand. It was blowing about Force 6 offshore so the water was invitingly flat but I’ve caught that way before so gave it a wide berth. Thought I was home and hosed until I jumped on what I thought was a nice dry bed of seaweed only to find it was floating on about 6 inches of water. That was a surprise and I’ll have to be more careful in future but still, nobody died.
Met some nice dogs out for their morning constitutionals, a poodle an Australian cattle dog who seemed to have left his tail at home which I thought was pretty cool really given the weather, tails are a bloody menace when they get saturated, upset your balance not end. Got a weird feeling he was a bit of a kindred spirit more of an intuitive feeling really, non-verbal and he was very chilled even with me bouncing off him like some demented squash ball. Hope I meet him again. The poodle was a brick too and more than up for a chase across the sand. The third member of this troupe was an elderly black and white collie who walked funny with her head cocked on one side and gave me a right earful when I approached. Gave her plenty of room I can tell you these ears are just too vulnerable to take a chance. Her staff told mine that she was fifteen and had had a stroke which I would have thought was a good thing really, I quite like a stroke whenever I can get one but it obviously doesn’t agree with her. Still each to his or her own. the meet was all too brief and on we went into the teeth of the wind. As I was looking over my shoulder to make sure the staff were keeping up, I literally tripped over this…
…smelled a bit rum so I thought I’d sample it and see what it tasted like. In the event, not much is the answer, sort of salty, slightly chewy but not in a good way and with a slightly fishy aftertaste. Not very appealing and not a patch on cow pats which, in addition to having rich earthy texture, taste divine and are packed full of Vitamin D so a win all round. The floppy frisbee, on the other hand, was not that appetising but they do seem to be plentiful and I had to watch carefully where I was putting my feet I can tell you. If only a way could be found to flavour them with bovine crap the food shortage dilemma might be solved.
That’s all for November, roll on the end of the year.