Same time, same route but never the same twice.
Today there was no sign of the tall, thin, elderly couple
with the two Bedlington Terriers.
Neither, I am glad to say, were there any remains of
dead toads still in evidence - nature's undertakers
had taken care of that although there was a
fresh little squirrel corpse laying patiently at the
roadside awaiting the arrival of the night shift beetles.
|Such bounty - sign of a hard winter to come?|
I spoke briefly with two ladies being towed along by exuberant mongrels,
the ponies were taking advantage of some late
lush grass and the Doberman slumbered on blissfully as always
on his bench in the sun.
He doesn't need to mount guard, just one look is enough
to deter all but the most faint-hearted. Besides,
the old spaniel slumbering next to him will soon tip him the
wink if anything seems amiss and in need of his attention.
But the highlight of my amble undoubtedly has to be a close
encounter with a little Westie puppy who, on this momentous day
for Scotland of which he was totally oblivious, rolled
over for a tummy tickle and then proceeded
to gnaw at my newly varnished toes.
Cheeky little sod, men have died for less!