A Little Mistake

Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Hugo is not perfect after all, oh no. This morning in the pet shop he peed up against a pile of lovely new doggie bedding. I think I stopped him before more than a dribble came out, but that shocked me I can tell you. Probably there was just too much temptation in there, but even so. I thought he had better manners. We bumped into Sally in the car park and she duly admired the boy. That was before his infarction so I didn't have to admit to it. And a man in the post office said he looked very fit, obviously got a lot of exercise. Well he does, but the sedate walking pales into insignificance when I let him tear around the garden at high speed, turning on a pinhead. He has a real fixation with the field. He stares across its emerald reaches as if some ancestral urge is telling him he should be out there, should be doing something, but what? I call him away each time and he comes at once. He doesn't run for long before he's ready to come in and flop in his bed. But what would happen if he saw a hare and went after it? How far would he run?

I had my answer on our evening walk. As we left the house an owl flew right past my ear, crossing the lane into Sarah's drive, soaring past the big barn and quartering the field. I noted the time, 6.10pm, so that the owlophiles coming to stay this weekend will be able to take up positions for a sighting. We returned 40 minutes later, and there he was again right beside the house, swooping over the field. But during that walk Hugo spotted a hare a few hundred yards away, sprinting across a freshly ploughed field, and he was ready to go, body stiff with tension and power, ears pricked. I checked him immediately and he stayed put, but he didn't take his eyes off the running hare and I kept saying quietly but firmly, No, No. He knows the land around our home is his natural territory, and watches intently for prey. Even playing in the garden, chasing balls, he ends up at the wire fence staring out, hunting with his eyes, haunted by primeval spectres. Like, genetics is everything, innit.