Walk report

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!