Holly and I had a wonderful walk today. It was one of Harvey’s favourites before he got too old to manage it. Out across the tip, through the woods and back by the river. We wandered through wood anemones, marsh marigolds, the last few violets and the just-blossoming bluebells. And we didn’t see a soul. Just me and a crazy dog who LOVES water.
She kept leaping off banks that were way too steep for her to get back up. Fortunately I only had to get in once to rescue her. It was a yank-by-the-scruff-of-the-neck job, and what does she do to repay me? While I’m still precariously balanced with one foot on a twig and the other on the muddy slopey bank, she shakes in my face. Such ingratitude!
Harvey is looking at me reproachfully. But you couldn't have managed it, Harvs, you know that ... no, you couldn't ... even before you were poorly your walks had gotten shorter and time taken to do them longer ... yes, I know you would have shown her all the best bits of river, maybe next time?
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