Well, appearances can be deceptive. The dog and I did not have the best Easter Sunday. We had our trot. Pleasant enough. Spoke to some people. On the way I'd seen a pheasant burnished to fiery brilliance by the sunlight. On the way home, though, I nearly ran over a long-haired youth on one of those annoying electric scooters. He gave me the finger - I don't blame him - but even worse, the neighbours saw as they were sitting waiting to pull out. They stared at me stony faced like I was an escaped convict. The woman, it has to be said (well, it doesn't have to but I will nonetheless) Is immensely obese. I am not talking chubby, here, I mean she is a lard block nearly as wide as she is tall. So much for cheerful fat people. I have never seen her smile. Maybe she can't under all that fat.
Well, so this was bad enough. But later as we went out for the second walk, the dog pulled away as we went through the door and attacked a small spaniel. The owners were nice about it but I felt awful. Doubly so because I have, surely, made him think every dog passing the house is an enemy to be defeated.
Then I went into the garden and the poor thing nearly collapse as he tried to get up the steps.
Hey ho.
To make matters worse I am reading a book by a guy called Adrian Morrison who was an animal researcher. The cognitive dissonance is making me nauseous. Still.
We have to keep bouncing back, me and the dog. Boing boing.
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