I took the dogs out early, and let Madge take her tennis ball. I don't very often take it, because she just trots beside me, like one of those dancing dogs, in the very weird, boring bit of Crufts.
It was frosty when we were getting ready, so I thought I'd stick Madge's coat on her. I shouldn't laugh, because she really thinks she looks special (aint that the truth) but once it's on, she spends five minutes swaggering about, looking at her reflection in the bookcases, and Ted, being a true, redblooded, Italian male, spends just as long trying to get her naked.
Anyway, I shouldn't laugh, but I do, because I can't make up my mind whether she looks like Pamela Anderson, in Baywatch, or a reject from a long disbanded RNLI lifeboat crew. Either way, she thinks she looks good, and is nice and warm, and that's all that matters.
I tried to sneak the ball into my pocket, while she was busy on the catwalk, but she saw me, so we ended up walking all the way to the field with Madge glued to my leg in case I gave HER ball, to anyone other than HER.
After fifteen minutes of ball chasing, we walked over the Chimney Pots (it's just a big hill that overlooked the chimneys of the lime kilns, when they still dug chalk out of Box Hill) Ted and Pie were heading off for the woods, but Madge and the ball were right beside me, until she saw a pheasant fly out of the cover. Bloody hell, this sedate lady can turn on the speed when she wants to. Within seconds she was out of sight, but I could hear her crashing through the maize. No patient flushing from Madge, she put over two dozen birds up, and the noise they made, brought Dumb and Dumber over from the wood, to see what on earth 'the special one' had done. Poor Ted went into full gaylord mode, and clearly wasn't sure if he should catch them all at once, or one at a time, and if it was one at a time, which one should he choose first, decisions, decisions. Pie had taken a look, but took the opportunity of me being occupied with Ted hopping from one front leg to the other, and Madge on a murderous rampage, to go and eat a freshly made cow turd. After yelling myself hoarse, Madge finally, came huffing and puffing out of the cover, and STILL had the ball in her mouth. I took the coat off her, because she looked like she'd been sat in a gas mark 9 oven for three hours, and was getting crispy at the edges, then we all headed off towards home. In the last field we walk through, there's a huge water tank for the cows, that Pie and Ted always get a drink from, but I think in all the time I've known Madge, she's only drunk out of it two or three times. Today all the running about had made her thirsty, and she made a bee line for the water, jumped up on her back legs, with her front paws on the top of the tank, and started crying like a girl. I was crapping myself as I ran over to her, because I thought she'd hurt herself. She hadn't, but she had forgotten the object of her deepest desire was still in her mouth as she went to drink, and the ball was now floating about in the water tank, and all three dogs were playing apple bobbing, Madge was bordering on complete hysteria, and I was bitterly regretting the last cup of coffee I'd had before we left home, because I wasn't sure my bladder would hold out, and PMSL was becoming a real possibility.
It was frosty when we were getting ready, so I thought I'd stick Madge's coat on her. I shouldn't laugh, because she really thinks she looks special (aint that the truth) but once it's on, she spends five minutes swaggering about, looking at her reflection in the bookcases, and Ted, being a true, redblooded, Italian male, spends just as long trying to get her naked.
Anyway, I shouldn't laugh, but I do, because I can't make up my mind whether she looks like Pamela Anderson, in Baywatch, or a reject from a long disbanded RNLI lifeboat crew. Either way, she thinks she looks good, and is nice and warm, and that's all that matters.
I tried to sneak the ball into my pocket, while she was busy on the catwalk, but she saw me, so we ended up walking all the way to the field with Madge glued to my leg in case I gave HER ball, to anyone other than HER.
After fifteen minutes of ball chasing, we walked over the Chimney Pots (it's just a big hill that overlooked the chimneys of the lime kilns, when they still dug chalk out of Box Hill) Ted and Pie were heading off for the woods, but Madge and the ball were right beside me, until she saw a pheasant fly out of the cover. Bloody hell, this sedate lady can turn on the speed when she wants to. Within seconds she was out of sight, but I could hear her crashing through the maize. No patient flushing from Madge, she put over two dozen birds up, and the noise they made, brought Dumb and Dumber over from the wood, to see what on earth 'the special one' had done. Poor Ted went into full gaylord mode, and clearly wasn't sure if he should catch them all at once, or one at a time, and if it was one at a time, which one should he choose first, decisions, decisions. Pie had taken a look, but took the opportunity of me being occupied with Ted hopping from one front leg to the other, and Madge on a murderous rampage, to go and eat a freshly made cow turd. After yelling myself hoarse, Madge finally, came huffing and puffing out of the cover, and STILL had the ball in her mouth. I took the coat off her, because she looked like she'd been sat in a gas mark 9 oven for three hours, and was getting crispy at the edges, then we all headed off towards home. In the last field we walk through, there's a huge water tank for the cows, that Pie and Ted always get a drink from, but I think in all the time I've known Madge, she's only drunk out of it two or three times. Today all the running about had made her thirsty, and she made a bee line for the water, jumped up on her back legs, with her front paws on the top of the tank, and started crying like a girl. I was crapping myself as I ran over to her, because I thought she'd hurt herself. She hadn't, but she had forgotten the object of her deepest desire was still in her mouth as she went to drink, and the ball was now floating about in the water tank, and all three dogs were playing apple bobbing, Madge was bordering on complete hysteria, and I was bitterly regretting the last cup of coffee I'd had before we left home, because I wasn't sure my bladder would hold out, and PMSL was becoming a real possibility.
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