Pleasant pheasant

The common pheasant. Photograoh courtesy of Pat Kavanagh 6799342829_caed102bda  You would not believe how close I was yesterday, Readers, to catching my own dinner.  We were up in Top Field on our first walk of the day, and whilst She stomped on ahead, I faffed around in the middle of the field where the long grass is.  I had picked up the scent of something rather marvellous, and I was not prepared to listen to the whistle or shrieking voice from across the field.  Suddenly, I caught sight of something moving ahead of me in the long grass, and being a Hunting Dog, I put my nose to the ground and ran.  I also made my special Hunting noise, which I like to think is a rich, deep braying sound, but am told it’s a silly high pitched squeak.  I ran round and round in circles braying/squeaking – right at the last moment a pheasant rose up into the air a mere inch or two from my jaws.  It flew off, but I was incredibly pleased with myself.  And exhausted.  So it was unfair to make me march for another two miles after that, when I was clearly worn out.  

The only respite from this fast marching was caused by yet another Good Citizen moment.  We had one of these on the way back from the pub the other night, when a small Cockapoo type thing ran out of a house and charged up and down the pavement, with no owner in sight.  Fearing an unpleasant death underneath a passing car, or just being an Interfering Cow, whichever way you want to look at it, She leapt into action and chased after this poor creature, grabbing it roughly and picking it up.  Clasped tightly to her chest, it was then returned to its grateful owner who didn’t realise the front door was open. In Top Field yesterday, there was another big Cockapoo type thing (why are there so many of them?) with rather long, bushy fur.  The problem with long, bushy fur is that if you then jump into a ditch full of brambles, the spikes get caught in your fur and you emerge with half a bush attached to you.   I was left and ignored for simply AGES while a gallant effort was made to help the Cockapoo’s Pack Leader try to untangle their dog.  It took two people and about ten minutes to achieve this.   I was very bored by it all, and I don’t think the suggestion of bringing scissors out on the next walk was all that helpful.

Once I’d been dragged out for a second walk in the evening, I had been made to cover a ridiculous 5.3 miles  in total. I got my own back a little, by emitting some shocking smells from my armchair, which really served them right.  I could barely move.  Thankfully I was at dear, dear Ebony’s house today for respite, and as Ebony still has a bandaged paw from where she jumped over the fence the other day, we went for a sensible short walk.  It was plenty. I spent the rest of the time dozing in the sunshine in the garden – and this is the lifestyle that I prefer.  Ebony’s Pack Leader understands my needs better than my own family.  

I had feared more arduous walking tomorrow, but luckily Colleague 1 has come to my rescue and asked her to work.  This is kind of him, and I am grateful for this.  It means I have another day at dear Ebony’s house, laying in the sunshine.  It’s meant to be very warm, and Colleague 1 has done me a huge favour. I’m not sure my welfare and mental health were his prime concern, but that doesn’t matter.

Tonight everyone looks rather tired, and you’re quite fortunate really that the blog is being written.  Lad and She went to the Important Place in London today for yet another appointment, which meant trains and underground In The Heat.  There has been non-stop moaning about what this has cost – bldy £80 – because Lad is now of an age where he has to pay bldyadultfare and because they had to get a train at bldy 9am no railcard could be bldy used.  And of course the £80 was before they had had anything to eat or drink, and we all know that would have been factored into the morning somewhere.  Regular Readers may remember that on their last visit, there was some dissatisfaction in Costalotta Holborn about the butter/toast ratio so Lad decided on a bacon roll today, to play safe.  She had nothing but an Americano as the day had cost a bldy fortune.  And don’t we know it.  The good news was that Lad was just in time to get back to school for some of the afternoon, which pleased him greatly.  Readers, on the underground train it was standing room only, apparently, and a very civilised gentleman gave up his seat for her.  But what do you know?  She was very offended by this, as it meant he thought She was either old or pregnant, and it’s hard to tell which.  Some people are never happy.

Lad was quite happy, actually.  The people at the Important Place in London told Lad that he needs more salt in his diet, to counteract any dizzy spells he gets.  This meant an immediate trip to Dreggs round the corner for a slice of Pepperoni and a bag of crisps.  The Extremely Healthy Poached Salmon salad produced last  night for dinner, is not doing Lad any good at all.  I feel for him.  

This evening it has just been Lad and I here, as Young Lad had his first outdoor cricket training of the year.  Normally I go to this – I like to think I’m the club mascot – but tonight I was left at home as someone was too bldy tired to keep walking me round the pitch for an hour and a half.  Chatting with her friend in the bar was a preferred option tonight, and I bark and grizzle if we stop to talk to people. as I like to walk round eating the bird poo off the grass. Poor He is working Ridiculous Hours now it is the summer term, and didn’t get home till late tonight.  I barely see He at the moment.  I chose to ignore him  when He did roll home, and lie in the garden chewing a bone that I’d dug up after all Lad’s gardening efforts the other day.  I suspect He was a little hurt by this, but there you go.

So tomorrow, to Ebony’s house again – thank you to the one who made it possible, as 5.3 miles of stomping in 25 degrees is no laughing matter.

See you soon,

Russell

Author: boredbeagle

Slightly stocky beagle who lives with a family. This is She, He, Lad and Young Lad. And Gingercat. Generally doesn't get enough attention and so writes this blog to let everyone know what his life is like. You need to start from page one (First Attempt).. Go on, it's worth the effort.

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