Walking The Dog

And the dog won.

Not that it was actually a competition, but I can’t say “Walking the dog” without thinking of Beavis and Butthead saying “Breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law!”  And I can’t think of that without thinking of “I fought the law and the law won.”

A small insight into what it’s like inside my head, all day every day.

Back to the dog walk.  Possibly the best way to start a day is to take Peggy-Dog out for a walk.  The joy on her face when the poo bags go into my pocket and I pick up the lead – yes, dogs can show joy on their faces – never fails to tug at my heart.  Sometimes I grab poo bags just to see the look on her face, and then quickly put them back and hope she doesn’t realise*.

This morning I decided to go to the local park, mostly because I can let her off the lead there, but also it’s not as muddy as the field I usually go to.  Although I’m not rolling around in the mud, Peggy does get a tad mucky and the extra five minutes it takes to clean her up before going to work is five minutes I’d rather not have to make up in flexi-time.  Sounds a bit pernickety, but that’s the way it is.

The park was quiet as usual, as not many people are out and about at 6 am, but after the walk was almost over Peggy did meet a couple of doggy friends and they had a quick play.  I love to watch her play with other dogs, although she’s not a fan of the boisterous stuff and usually gives up after a few seconds if it gets rough.  Still, it adds an extra spring to her step, and it means she isn’t pooing which is always a bonus.  Unless it’s really cold, then picking up a good poo is like heating for hands.

Next week I may take her running in the morning.  It gives me some much needed running exercise, and it tires her out like nothing else.

Talking of which, I think it’s time for bed.

* I have never done that, but am now thinking I ought to give it a go.


  1. Washin’ the dog! Washin’ the dog!

    Somehow I can’t help feeling partly responsible for your brain being like that, because mine is all the time too – & I’m sure you were reasonably normal when you first met me… (Well, normal as in a chinny goit who was not in the least bit normal. Obviously.)

  2. I blame you all the time. But, actually, I think you and Admans were just the first people I had met who were mental in the way I was mental. And it was like the fog lifted. Or descended, depending on whether you have to live with me or not!

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