Small Sad Dog

Actually that's a small dried out, comfortable, fairly happy dog but not all of my day has been that way.

It started in the usual way, my family prepared to leave and I dashed up the road to the faded old caravan and was granted admission just as porridge was cooling on a plate - for me.  Rain had started but wasn't heavy so my hopes were high for the now usual early morning walk.  Rain no problem, the human has an umbrella thing by the door.

Next thing I know she's chucking stuff in her rattly old van and made room for me on the front seat. I didn't need a second invitation and immediately settled down for a nice road trip. 

Imagine my surprise when the trip lasted about 100metres and I put my head up to see we were at my place.

No way.

I refused to get out of the van. It's raining out there. You can't leave me in this. What are you made of? Stone? I dashed back and forth across the front as she tried to get me out one side then the other and she just laughed.  She finally lifted me out and set me down whereupon I did my best saddest, abject, miserable hound look. It would have melted any normal human but she just backed out the drive. (Our hedge rearranged her mirror for her - serves her right.)

She didn't come back for 5 hours. 5 WHOLE HOURS 

From where I was sitting I saw the van return and saw her go to my house and heard her calling me (without an answer) but I waited.

When she got back to her ranch and was opening her caravan a small wet, cold dog crawled out from underneath, where said dog had been cringing for a WHOLE 5 HOURS.

I hope she feels real guilty.

Scully.

PS now it's raining fish and frogs and no normal dog wants to go for a walk in this (even with an umbrella) when there is a rug and small nibbles and tummy scratches on offer in a warm dry place.

F - The Wee White Pirate has become my alarm clock. Her family leave home at 0710 every weekday but she often signals her arrival here 15 minutes before they depart. After porridge we go for a walk but we have nearly worn a groove in the limited places we can walk hereabouts.  Scully not being a collar wearer I can't put her on a lead and head off into the bush, and being a terrier she is constantly looking for something to terrorize. I'm OK with the possibility it's a rat or a possum, but it is equally likely to be a weka (native flightless bird).

Have you ever seen Does your dog bite?

So we stick to the roads and public walking tracks and then return to start the day's work when the sun appears above the hill.  She's a lousy supervisor (Mr T had the role absolutely mastered) but does stick around doing patently bored during hours of building and painting. Like Fergus she knows the word WALK and can pick it out of a sentence spoken between humans; it doesn't even need to be addressed to her or said in an enthusiastic tone of voice.  She hasn't learned to sit nicely for photos and has some aversion to the phone pointed at her.

The posture she did when I removed her from the van looked like abject fear, terror even, and I wondered what about home made her do that. It stayed with me all morning and I tore about Blenheim doing my errands (I've not been to a supermarket for over two weeks; fresh produce and perishables were in short supply at home.) It's an hour and 15 minutes each way, and a 40 minute stop in Havelock to do my laundry - so I didn't waste any time on collecting groceries, the hardware store visit, or the fuel stop I made while in town. No browsing.

We are on a heavy rain warning which could mean impassable flooding between the bridges or slips blocking the road so I wanted to get back ASAP anyway but I certainly didn't expect to find Scully huddled in the mud under the caravan.  Looks like I need to build her a kennel.  She's dry and warm now.

Wearing a groove in the coastal walking track