No one is sure why dogs eat grass: they feel sick, they are bored, they are hungry, or they like the taste. I'm sure it's the last reason that causes Hugo to have a bit of a chew when we are out walking. He always goes for long juicy strands, and at first I thought he was sucking the moisture off them. I know differently now. Twice his calls of nature have been hampered by a long strand that gets stuck and has to be yanked out, with attachments. By me. Yes. The second time was today when he had backed into a thick clump of grass as usual and performed. As I moved towards him with my handy poo bag a van approached us just as I noticed that complete clearance had not occurred, and matter was still hanging off a long blade. I stooped to deal with it, but the van stopped beside me to ask directions to the Baptist minister's house. The dog was still hunched over trying to remove the offending object which was hanging there for all to see. Oh, go away, I muttered to the man, but he wasn't sure where I meant - "Down the lane on the left, the house this side of the Baptist Chapel", um, duh? - and I had to explain again. Eventually he moved off followed by a car that had had to wait behind him. Oh Hugo, I think the grass eating has to stop.
The wind is still blowing hard but the end may be in sight. I've capitalised on being stuck indoors by doing a little cleaning, specifically bathrooms. It's the job I loathe most, especially as the very hard water here means that limescale gathers in the loos and has to be coaxed off by soaking the porcelain in white vinegar. This involves laying layers of loo paper under the rim and pressing them into place before pouring over the vinegar. Gravity may scupper your plans but you have to persevere. It's the only non-chemical thing that gets it off.
I can see that this post is getting rather scatological so I'll stop now before it gets too weird. I'm feeling quite flushed.
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