Okay, actually it was me who threw the wobbly. I'm not sure what George threw.
We were walking on the tip. It used to be the municipal tip but thirty years ago they stopped dumping and left it to nature to reclaim. And Nature has done a very good job. It's a very pleasant place to walk now and usually very quiet.
Today I was approaching a bend in the path. I couldn't see around it and George was walking behind me. Suddenly he shot ahead, and ran around the corner, growling.
It scared me to death!
It's bad enough when he suddenly stops, his hackles rise and he looks around warily; this was taking it to another level altogether.
He must have got a scent, strong scent of something but I couldn't see anything and he came out of the bushes and continued to walk as if nothing had happened. 'Good grief, George,' I said. 'Please don't do that again. You'll give me a heart attack.'
He looked at me and shrugged. 'A dog's got to do what a dog's got to do.'
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