Couple of hours to ponder life as Hawklad takes an exam at a local college. Passed quite a few dog walkers along these tree lined avenues. A couple of thoughts struck me….
Many of the dog walkers looked so stressed out. Polite but no many smiles. Some talking on phones, some head down looking like they had the weight of the world upon them, some purposely keeping their distance.
Yet every single dog looked happy. Tails wagging, some carrying sticks, some chasing balls., some diving in and out of the undergrowth. All keen for attention and a stroke as they passed by.
Our modest village bungalow….. need to clean the brickwork…..
If only…..
Actually a pleasant walk around Castle Howard.
April 1st….
April Fools Day….
What’s it called when you think you have spotted an April Fools Joke and it turns out to be reality, no joke.
I had been out for a run this morning, which given the tight leggings I was wearing, probably counts as some form of joke….. Running back through the village and the Postman shouted over to me.
“There’s a horse in your garden chomping on your front grass.”
Yeh right…… not falling for that one…..
Two minutes later, I’m stood looking at our front garden and thinking…. Why is there a horse there eating grass.
Thankfully eating grass as just a few inches away was our daffodils and I think I remember that stuff is bad for them. Clearly somehow that horse had escaped from the farmers field behind us. I’m not really a horse person so was a bit unsure on how to encourage it back to where it should be. The kneeling down in front of it and shouting ‘here boy’ might work with dogs but not with this horse. Gently trying to push it in the general direction of the field gate (like I do with our pudding of a boy cat), was a tad unsuccessful. Ok back to dog tactics, wave a treat in front of it. A clump of grass didn’t work, a carrot didn’t work…. But unbelievably a Rich T biscuit caught its attention. Before one biscuit was consumed, the beast had shifted about 2 yards. Sadly about another 60 to go. I only have 2 biscuits left….
Thankfully the farmer then arrived having been alerted by the Postman. A few seconds later the horse was back home in his field. All it took was a few quiet words, a handful of seed and the horse followed the farmer.
Clearly I’m no horse whisperer and now I’m double checking some of the news items that I assumed were practical jokes. Trump as President and the Golf of America apparently aren’t practical jokes…..
Our 98 month old puppy with his way too full Dark Side of the Moon toy basket. I wonder if Pink Floyd ever imagined that their iconic 1973 album cover would reach these heights in 2024.
That box has seen many uses prior to being a well chewed soft toy repository. From LPs to loose photos to work documents. The box started to spilt with the weight of my records (a few Floyd ones as well) ….Too many records bought over the years. Photos, too many photos taken over the years…. Finally they got filed away neatly in albums. Work documents, well to be more precise, problems to be sorted. Overdue invoices, out of balance accounts, complaints, that kinda thing. Lots and lots of staffing issues. A bit too often this box was mostly filled with what felt like scripts from The Office. Let’s just politely say larger than life characters. Our Yorkshire equivalents of an Angela, Ryan, Andy and unbelievably TWO Dwights. Add our human (I think) version of the paranoid android Marvin from Hitchhikers Guide and someone who could out swear Gordon Ramsey. Oh let’s not forget the chap who thought it was ok to use a work credit card to buy stuff for his house including a PlayStation. The problems that box contained, Dark Side of the Moon definitely the perfect moniker back then.
But now it’s full of dog toys that have definitely seen better days. The abuse those poor things take on a daily basis. How does that fit in with the albums original themes of time inevitably passing, madness and the conflict between light and darkness. When the mad pup stops chewing his tennis ball, I will ask him.
Walking along the peaceful Yorkshire roads. No cars, no people, just the sound of birds and a happy dog excitedly bouncing through a carpet of dry leaves. One of those times when the World seems still, peaceful. I try to capture the moment.
Then a dog does what a dog needs to do.
With Pop Bag in hand I bend over to deal with the smelly doggie gift. My mobile slips gracefully out of my jacket chest pocket and tumbles almost in slow motion to the ground.
Some things in life are INEVITABLE, Thanos was right about that.
Like a precision tool, my mobile scores a direct hit onto the newly produced Doggie Gift. Think of the sound welly boots make when squelching through inches of mud….
I am no physicist but there must be some universal laws at play here, but how does both sides of mobile get covered…. How does it get inside the protective case. How does it fill the speaker holes. For the first time my mobile has full coverage in Rural Yorkshire.
Then that realisation. No hankies, no tissues, nothing to begin to wipe it clean. A poop bag is absolutely no use here, it just spreads and smears. Dry leaves help a bit but they can only do so much. It’s a long winding two mile walk home with the smelliest mobile in the world and I’ve used my last poop bag
Do I just carry it at arms length like I’m holding some biological weapon….
Do I lose all self respect and just put it in my pocket……
Love at first sight. Can you see what capturedthe mad one’s heart.
Yes he fell for the little robot lawnmower. Tail wagging went into overdrive. ROMEO had to be eventually physically pulled away from his JULIET.
Since that first encounter, he rushes on his walks to this spot, wagging his tail. Tilting his head when he can’t see his new friend. Putting the brakes on in the hope that a few more moments would deliver his love to that lawn.
Maybe if it stays dry, the little robot will be back at work soon and the friendship can recommence.
I wonder, is the canine heart, the perfect reason I’ve been looking for to finally invest in this bit of Harry Potter Wizardry. Sat drinking coffee while the robot happily sorts out the garden, certainly does have its unquestionable appeals.
One question though, has the robotic lawn cutting quality ever been properly stress tested when you introduce a playful and most probably, RANDY MAD DOG.
At night he won’t go out in the garden unless someone goes with him. The times I’ve stood outside in the rain waiting for the 85 month old puppy to cock his leg….
At the weekend one of the houses down the lane was having a kiddies birthday party, the way to the mayhem being flagged by balloons. Our dog walk goes past that house and down that lane. I had to pick him up and carry him past every single balloon. He is scared of balloons….
He is also scared of tractors which is a bit of a pain in the rear end, living in the country, surrounded by farms. He’s petrified of the Vet, one of my sisters, scissors, washing machines, the coffee machine, next door’s wheelie bin and scalextric cars. But to be fair to him he is not scared of cats, some dogs, horses, sheep, cows, cars, fireworks, postmen and anything offering him cheese.
Work Team Calls are always an experience, bit like bathing an 80 plus month old puppy.
Today’s work call was no different. An Ex-Police Officer was illuminating everyone on his new found movie philosophy. Apparently you can tell lots from the movies someone goes to see at the cinema. He highlighted that his cinema experience this year had been Barbie, Disney, Taylor Swift. To him that clearly showed that he had a teenage daughter. Another Ex-Police Officer then said that his cinema experience had been entirely Jason Statham related. To that our Philosopher pointed out that it shows an ex copper who missed his true vocation, in the FIREARMS team. Someone else was said to be a closet romantic.
Then it came to me. Pick the bones out of this list…
Napoleon
Marvels
Great Escapers
Oppenheimer
Killers of the Flower Moon
Mission Impossible
Indiana
Guardians of the Galaxy
Ant Man
Flash
The Philosopher smiled and stated. “Given how tight you are, to see that number of movies indicates you are on that tv contract which gives you free movie tickets each month…”
The absolute cheek… but annoyingly I am on that free movie ticket deal.
It’s exactly 7 years since we welcomed this little hooligan into our world.
For 2 months I hadn’t been functioning, I was a mess and seemingly unable to take control. It had just been over 2 months since we had buried Hawklad’s Mum.
But then in November I realised that the house needed more LIFE, more noise, rekindled fun. A mad puppy was the answer. And do you know what, it still is the single best parenting decision I have made.
Usually a favourite pit stop area for the mad pup but strangely not today.
On the path, a once clean golden retriever was proudly showing off its new caked mud look while it’s owner muttered something about her pride and joy encountering a garden hosepipe real soon….
A garden hosepipe option that isn’t available to our 84 month old puppy due to to some of his very own premeditated, over zealous chewing. Definitely lots of chewing DNA in our pet, way more than in me I guess.
I should ask my sister about that.
A few days back she phoned me to excitedly tell me about her DNA heritage results test. I’ve always thought about checking mine out to see where I kinda came from apart from Yorkshire. Well unless my sister has some dodgy results or if my parents didn’t tell me about some really important stuff, THEN I now have clarity. On this walk I pondered a shocking fact…. I’m not as Yorkshire as I assumed. My DNA appears to be only 50% English. Further my sister has been doing some family history digging as well and it looks like there is a lot of Lancashire in me. On NO Yorkshire’s biggest rivals, WE’VE had wars with them…. If people find out, I might lose my Yorkshire Passport and Rhubard Privileges.
Apparently I’m also 30% Welsh (why can’t I sing then….), 12% Scottish and 8% Scandinavian. Viking DNA is not unexpected as they did invade this part of the world. I might look quite fetching stood in a longboat dressed as a Nordic Warrior. In my dreams 😂😂😂😂😂
Unbelievably our Yorkshire Garden has just about dried out. Time for a bit of Croquet. A simple, uncomplicated sport…. NORMALLY. Introduce a 4 legged LITTLE HELPER and mayhem ensues.
A helpful MOLE also adding some additional course features…
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 