Last week the weather was hot and sunny. This week it's chill and wet. We put the heating back on. At least the wisteria by the front door seems to be enjoying the change.
The ground has become waterlogged with the constant rain. Bob likes waterlogged ground. He can drink from the drainage ditches on our morning walk. He will not, however, walk along the road that leads to the old widows house. The new grit that is being laid hurts his paws.
I spend ten minutes writing the morning blog. Sophie comes to join me. She brings with her a yogurt pot. This she throws at my feet three times. I stop and explain to her that the carton won't refill itself. She gives me an accusatory look that says '' Call yourself a dog owner ! ".
Finally, they are saddled up and loaded into the back of the car. Bob takes up position on 'his' side so there are no diva like outbursts from his sister.
7.30 am and I've already laughed aloud half a dozen times. That, in its essence, is what dog ownership is all about.
This also made me chuckle. Being driven by the 95 year old husband of the Queen of England must be one of the most unexpected risks an American President can face : http://blogs.ft.com/photo-diary/2016/04/catching-a-ride-with-prince-philip/?siteedition=uk#recommended-h-504911461352770100