The Town and Country Mouse

It was an Irish morning, soft, mild, damp, misty, as sweet as a pollen cocktail. Not raining, not even mizzling, just soft. We set out in wellies and best lead, and tucked down a footpath that runs through the edge of a long, long garden. We sniffed the flowers, admired the hens and the fussing cock, and dived into the dripping gloom of a wood. Slippery underfoot, we negotiated fallen branches, high soaked grasses, brambles and cobwebs. Sasha off the leash as usual suddenly let out a yelp, and I rushed back to see what had happened. She was stuck behind a tangled mass of earth, undergrowth and big pieces of wood, but seeing me coming she valiantly leapt free, and then jumped all over me with her muddy feet to demonstrate her jubilation at getting to me. Oh, the joy, for both of us! Off we went again, hastening through the wood to the light beyond. Suddenly we were out, facing a sea of wheat undulating in all directions and as far as the eye could see. It was so lovely we stood and gazed for several minutes before moving on. It was a long walk, but only one of us got tired. We finished up in a young plantation of pretty trees and finally behind the Old Rectory before finding the lane again. I suspect we may have lost the footpath, but nobody saw us.

Later, after a rest, a drink, and a bit of play, we set out for Framlingham. As far as I know Sasha has never been to a town before, so we were going to take it easy. We walked to the pet shop first and bought a few more essentials: a brush, a hamster feeder for her cage (nobody's ever bought one for that purpose before, the shoplady told me doubtfully, but at home Sasha got the idea straight away, helped by a bit of Marmite on the edge of the dropper). Then we bought spare dog towels and baby blankets from the two charity shops, and a lovely granary loaf from the market. How did the little creature behave? She was incredible, taking it all in her stride, being fussed, petted and fawned over by all and sundry and licking, tailwagging and generally being adorable. She sat in the pet shop without being asked, sat in the charity shops, sat when people stopped us in the street. She ignored another dog that barked at her, and was so amazing I could hardly believe she is only 4 months old. She was steady and mature. I was proud of her, impressed.

The day improved and it was hot by the afternoon. We went for another long walk when it began to cool. Larks rose around us, soaring ever upwards on their song, a small deer suddenly popped up out of the wheat and scampered off, and a hare no farther away than 10 feet emerged through the grass, stared at us and decided to hoof it. Sasha looked interested but decided not to give chase. The hare was twice her size. Instead she dashed hither and thither, jaws snapping unsuccessfully on much smaller prey, the insects she never catches. Such immeasurable, indescribable pleasures. I must remember to take my camera with me to record these scenes I can't adequately describe with words.