Rabbiting On

I've started driving differently since I've had the dog. No more flying around the many corners you encounter when you live in the country. Every field has to be negotiated lengthily because centuries ago - and even more recently -  farmers refused to allow lanes to be cut through their land. It can involve zigzagging from A to B in a dizzying switchback, and Hugo is not keen. I fit him into his harness which is attached to a seatbelt holder before we set off anywhere, and he settles down along the back seat. At the first bend he raises himself up in a disgruntled way, and if this twisting and turning continues he stands up and leans against the back of the seat. He does not like it, he makes it silently clear. Now my target is to keep him supine, and so I cut corners dangerously to try to keep the car on a smooth trajectory, I anticipate a corner and slide into it so that there is no abrupt movement. Success is him not getting up on all fours. The temptation to accelerate over the humpback bridge and have him lifted off the seat into the air is strong, but I even resist that. I've become a nun, I drive like a nun. The only thrill left is in motoring on the wrong side of the road as we round bends, the better to keep him steady, and even that comes with its own dangers.

He's had some lovely off-lead walks lately. On Sunday Ruth came for lunch and afterwards we went to the annual art exhibition at White House Farm, owned by the Gaythorne-Hardy family whose lives I've been reading about and been fascinated by in Half An Arch. The show is run by Jason - I know - whose father is Lord Cranbrook. I think Jason has a title too. We walked through the fields and up to a high plateau, and Hugo ran free all the time. He even came face to face with a few chickens and didn't attack them. Good boy! The sun was hot, very hot, and we were both red-faced and burnt by the end of the day. On Monday Helen and I went out for lunch, and we followed it with a walk all along the estuary of the River Blytgh, towards Walberswick. Again Hugo was off the lead, and he relished the freedom, and I relished his relish. It's so much more fun for both of us when he can come and go as he pleases, in a safe space.

He's been chasing rabbits today down at the beach at Sizewell. Luckily he didn't catch anything - I think they disappeared into their holes too quickly for him. He's completely zonked now, crashed out in his bed with long limbs hanging over the edge. He's so beautiful. And he's mine.