Flares

Wearing his little rubber boot hasn't slowed Hugo down at all. This morning was so gorgeous I decided he could manage the fields, and he soon made up for lost exercise of the vigorous kind. It's not exactly a well-fitting bit of footwear, being designed for a bigger dog with a round foot and a fat leg, but he's managed really well. I tie a bandage around the pads before attaching the boot, to minimise friction, and all I could hear as he ran backwards and forwards was a kind of a squelch, a flump. It reminded me of the time many years ago when we were followed through the woods by a man playing with his exposed organ, swinging it enthusiastically from side to side. Anyway, It was a relief to be on the hoof again for both of us. A bit later I went off to Earl Soham to have my flu jab and left Hugo behind. I was gone an hour or so, and he hadn't wrecked the place, or gone mad with anxiety. What he did do was stick close to me, no matter how often I moved from room to room. That is until Sammy arrived whereupon he threw himself at her and stuck to her like glue, forcing her to stroke him for hours. I took a picture of the two of them together, Hugo sitting upright beside her on the sofa like a sphynx.

Before she came I decided to rearrange the furniture a bit. With Christmas coming I have to find a way for everyone to be able to see the television, mantlepiece notwithstanding, so I removed the cabinet which supports it. Next I brought down the bookcase from the spare room to replace it, denuded of books natch, but it didn't look right. So then I stripped another display case of its CDs and tried that, and it worked better. It isn't permanent, but it will do until the new year.

Sammy was brimming with ideas for the garden, but once we were indoors again, Hugo comfortably settled on top of her, she really came into her own. I showed her my father's RAF records and she was able to tell me exactly what all the entries meant. Apparently he was part of the elite Pathfinders Force which went ahead of the bombers and lit up the route to the sites to be bombed. Sammy's father was an RAF pilot, and she was a career RAF officer too. She's already investigated his wartime experiences. It was very enlightening.

The boy and I had a late walk when Sammy had gone, darkness already having descended. He skipped and hopped along the lane, squelch, flump, but it was evening and there were too many cars around to be comfortable. We only went as far as third oak and skeetered back indoors. Too late for a walk, but my goodness, so early to be hunkering down. I suppose we get used to it.