Dog Days

It wasn't Countryfile but Springwatch that we marched into the middle of yesterday. Michaela Strachan posted a picture of herself in the middle of one of the open spaces where Hugo and I walk, which I've been meaning to snap for days now but always forget to bring my camera. The buttercups are so beautiful, and there are several spaces just like this, as well as woodland walks and wide paths around ponds. As usual when we walked there this morning we were alone for the whole hour we were there. I can't believe how lucky we are having such a place just down the road from us.

The whole of yesterday was spent in the garden, one of us working hard the other sleeping in the sun and periodically dragging himself panting heavily to the pond for a drink, tongue bright red and lolling out of the side of his mouth. I put the parasol up at lunchtime so I could eat outside without getting burnt. Hugo collapsed in a bony heap in a sunny spot beside me, elbows and knees knocking against the concrete. Hugo, I said, if you move to the other side of me you'll be in the shade. He sighed deeply, looked at me sadly and dropped his head onto a forearm again. Minutes later he was back at the pond before returning to his chosen spot in the hot sun. I'm not sure, but he may not be MENSA material. I power hosed the second small terrace, planted a jasmine against the loo wall, and weeded the rest of the shrub bed. And I started to make a path to the elder bench. The terrace came up quite clean apart from against the wall where in the winter the sun don't shine. I'll have to give it another go. And the path is just an idea at the moment. If I pursue it I'll dig the bricks in and make then look a bit better. They are quite old and battered but they suit the house somehow. That's nearly the end of the large store that I inherited. I've used them for the summerhouse path, a small wall separating the shrub bed from the bark path behind it, and as a base for the dustbins to sit on. That's a lot of bricks. We finally staggered in at five to eight. Hugo couldn't believe how long it was all taking me. He'd been trying to get me indoors for hours.

Dahlias etc being hothoused

Terrace after power hosing

The jasmine will be spread out against the trellis

Putative path

Today we met up with Frances and Christine at their place beside the river in Woodbridge. They are fellow Snape ushers, and we became friendly over our dogs. Theirs is Darcey, a tiny, pretty king charles spaniel that was rescued from a puppy farm in a huge barn in Wales. She had borne several litters though she was only four when rescued, and had lived on a concrete floor all her life. She had never been outside, and was terrified of birdsong. Hugo was fascinated by the loud snores she made when she fell asleep, and he kept going up to her to see what was happening. I noticed his Pen One S came out of its sheat though I hope nobody else did. He's not meant to have a sex drive.

I've now bought him an Adaptil collar which means he should be flooded with pheromones all the time and should never have another anxious moment. It'll be hard to tell because he is so chilled out at home, as long as I'm there too. He's zonked out beside me now, away with the gods. But there will be trying times ahead. Fingers crossed he'll be able to take them in his stride.

Out for the count