Ups and Downs

What an odd week it's been. It feels like ages since yoga on Monday. We've been going to the Woodland Trust every day, sometimes twice a day, and it's been great fun for both of us. Hugo keeps an eye on me and waits for me to catch up if I lag behind, or comes to get me if I'm too far back. The main thing is that he's free to charge around, explore by himself, and follow all those delicious scents that he can't track when on a lead. We've met a few nice dogs and owners, though generally we have it all to ourselves. But yesterday evening we encountered a nasty little piece of work called Lucky who snarled and snapped at Hugo, and tried to do the same to me. His owners, trailing a strong smell of patchouli (that's a family code word), just looked on, and so in the absence of a lead I grabbed Hugo by the collar and pulled him away. I must have been hurting him in my fear and anxiety, because he twisted his head and rubbed a warning tooth against my hand. I was totally shocked, probably mostly because I'd been expecting one of us to be bitten by Lucky, and tapped him on the nose with a firm "No, bad boy!" He immediately sank behind me and walked along with his face near the ground. It's OK Hugo, I told him, you didn't mean to hurt me. Good boy! And he leapt ahead at once. Oh, such a dear creature. This morning we walked right into the middle of the filming of Countryfile, with Michaela Strachan making a big fuss of Hugo as they waited for the drone filming overhead. We may be in the next edition. I'm the stripey one with the black dog.

The lawn scrubbed up well

 Wednesday wasn't much fun, or Friday. I'd arranged with the bridge club that it was OK to bring Hugo - no problem, no one will even notice him, I was told kindly. We got him settled beside our table and sat down ourselves ready for the afternoon when the the nice secretary came up to me discreetly and told me that a couple were objecting to the dog. "We'll leave if he doesn't", they had said. So we left. Helen was very disgruntled and wanted to stay for a fight - "let's put it to the vote", she urged. But I wouldn't have enjoyed it anyway. So that's that. Work wasn't a lot better on Friday, not because of any hostility but because Hugo whimpered every time I left the room, and the manager wasn't keen on me taking him in with me to see clients - too distracting. We're going to try again next week but I'm not feeling very positive. Did I say Hugo was a dear creature?

I've discovered there are things you can do to calm a dog, collars and such like. So we're going to try one of them. I've read very encouraging reviews. After a stressful day it was nice to come home and get to work on the garden. The ride-on made short shrift of the lawn, and I was able to trim the edges too because I wasn't exhausted or out of time. We were entertained by the 360-odd runners who passed the house on a 4-mile circular race from Framlingham. The young men came first, effortlessly striding out in their vests and shorts, followed by the young women, and then came the most amazing motley crew of every age, shape, size and level of fitness. I was really amazed and chastened by these people, mostly women. What had made them take up running? They were horribly out of breath as they came past my house, perhaps already two-thirds of the way around and scarlet with effort. I lurked behind some shrubs, though a flier through the letterbox had encouraged us on their route to cheer them on. But one chap noticed the dog and me, and so he spoke and the people with him spoke and the people behind saw this and looked and saw us and they spoke. And I found myself cheering them on, and by this time I really meant it because they were awesome. I'm afraid if I looked like some of them I wouldn't leave the house, certainly not in shorts. Good for them!

That's me bottom left. Head too high but it was a tricky pose