Dogwalking

The good thing about dogwalking, some extra time out along the estuary and on the beach and in Phear Park with its monumental 200 year old oaks. The bad thing - the dog! My best friend slipped on the estuary mud when walking Chesney, Rudy and Thor - daft name for a Jack Russell. She's mega-conscientious and she's also skint so she is carrying out her work duties with her right forearm in plaster and supported with a sling. She's my best friend and she looks after my cats when I'm away on my self-indulgent budget travel trips so I am giving Lucinda a hand with the yappy little furballs. I always say the only good dog is a dog that can pass for a cat and the  off-white Shiatsu and his black Shiatsu-pug housemate are bouncy and love truffling around in the grass and the leaves when I let them off their leads. But they wee and poo everywhere and get their leads tangled together and I have to pull them back from cars when we all cross the road. We talk to all the dog walkers when the dogs sniff one anothers bums so we get to meet and mingle with a wide selection of Exmouth life. How exciting. I will be glad when her arm is better.