Dogs, too

Took the dogs for a quick dash down to the river early this afternoon, but got slightly delayed by Chris phoning - I kept expecting the signal to disappear, so I walked more slowly. (No, I realise this doesn't make very much logical sense, but there you are, that's how it happened.)

Amazingly, we still had a signal by the time I reached the field at the bottom, beyond Roseghyll. It's quite interesting trying to carry on a telephone conversation while (a) taking photos and (b) attempting to throw sticks in the river for your dogs without (c) dropping your phone in the water or (d) getting your camera wet. I'm surprised I didn't throw the phone for the dogs to retrieve while taking photos with the stick and talking to the camera.

At one point Pace found a small plank, which she insisted I threw for her. It was so heavy it went whizzing off downstream rather fast, and Pace almost went with it. Visions of Baby Roo flitted through my memory.


Above - Pace finds a plank


COWS
Last week, it was cows. The cows think they own the field. Well, I suppose they do spend more time there than we do, but still....

You go down to the water's edge to throw sticks for your dogs, get the dogs nice and wet, and then, when you're ready to go, you find the field, previously apparently empty, now contains a herd of curious Fresians, staring languidly down at you.

I don't mind cows. They're slow and harmless, and the worst thing they do is create mud and shite in the places I want to walk. Other than that, they're just fine. And they've got rather nice eyes, too. Ghyll, however, isn't fond of cows, and gets somewhat spooked by their silent gazing. So he barks at them, rather loudly, until they shrug their shoulders in an impenetrable bovine way and wander off.


Above - the cows who think they own the field.