Doggy Sunday

I tried to get Sally to do this blog, but she's on strike. In fact, she's now lying in the kneehole of my desk, having started off sitting in there. That didn't work terribly well, as her head hits the underside of the desktop, so she's sort of lying down, with her forepaws on my left foot.

This is to let us know that she's a very tired dog, having been walked far too much over the last two days. Actually, I reckon it's the greyhound coming out; she's glad enough to go for the walk, and bounds about cheerfully for the first five miles, but then starts walking to heel incredibly well, and just collapses once back on board.

After first slurping up an amazing amount of water, of course. She will now spread herself out asleep wherever we happen to be, only waking up a bit when I start cooking, and doing so properly when we have finished eating, which is the signal for her to be fed.

This morning, Sheila did the walk into the village for the paper and some perishables like lettuce and hummus, and I walked Sal up to Common Lock and back for her morning stretch. That's around one mile, so she's had about 6½ altogether today; this afternoon we did the walk to Fradley village over the fields, then along the towpaths to the Junction and so home.

If I was being sadly anthropomorphic, I'd say that she's realised what the plan is for this week and is trying to demonstrate that she can be trusted to go to the office with Elanor, but really, it's just the Dobermanny bit about being close to her humans.

Office work is so tiring!