A high vantage point.

Bob is up early. By six he's checked the garden for cats and has taken up guard on the stump seat. This high vantage point lets him look across the lane towards The Old Farmer who is undertaking 'repairs' to the ancient Ford Transit. Today, the weather forecast informs us, will be a day of 'crushing' heat.

You'd think that after two and a half years the excitement that accompanies the  morning walk might have worn off. Not a bit of it. Bob squirms as the harness goes on. He shows his overbite. A sure sign of happiness overload. Sophie yelps and turns on her back. She then hides under the library table her tail going thwack-thwack-thwack with delight . Their enthusiasm a reminder that there is no such thing as a dull routine. 

Eventually both of them are harnessed up. They emerge into the courtyard and look at me with that exasperating ' aren't you ready yet ? ' look.

We head off to what was once. before the heat, the waterfall. Bob and Sophie want to charge down the hill across the wheat fields. I'm worried that the cut stalks, now they're dried, will hurt their paws. Bob, sensibly, takes the flattened path made by the harvesters tyres. Sophie, amazingly, follows . Today, there are no ' diva in the wheat field ' moments , just high speed chaos . Down in the valley they roll in the mud, watch the Kingfishers and sniff scents of encyclopaedic complexity. 

A happy, hot, summers morning in deepest France profonde. Tonight there will be lamb with their kibbles. It's already shaping up to be the best day ever.