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.
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.)
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!