Tomorrow we will see the sea

I can tell you that I have never experienced such trauma as that of human pack (I use the term loosely) behaviour when Chasing on the M1: so different to when we Chase.  I prefer our way, where we take account of everyone's strengths and weaknesses. We know that sticking one's radiator up a beagle's boot has messy consequences, so we don't do it.

The purpose of the M1 Chase was to reach another country called Wales. 'We're going on our holidays!' said Auntie Gill, 'And you'll be able to run on the beach and see the sea - you'll love it!' She paused dreamily, 'the landscape!  Mountains! Valleys!' and then she went into teacher mode, 'Different people live there - they're called Welsh ...'

At this point I switched off and while looking at her intelligently, was mentally trying pick out anything that might be of interest to Beagles.  I was most interested in the mountains and valleys, which would be rabbit country.  I have never heard of Beach Beagle Packs,  (My nearest Pack is the Airedale Beagles, dale being Yorkshire for valley.) so I'm not sure that beaches have much to offer a well-bred hound dog.  We'll see, I thought to myself.

Brahms and I are beginning to realise that when humans like something, they assume that you will too.  (Then, when you don't like it and indicate as much, they look at you in disbelief, convinced that you must be mistaken and subject you to it again!)  It is possible that we may share your opinion, but if we do, it is often for different reasons.  My daddies have paintings of landscapes because they like colours.  I see in black and white, so spending hours staring at a monochrome landscape that doesn't move at all (I don't mind cartoons), doesn't light my fire.  But, the scent of the landscape does and I can spend hours sniffing the different tones and textures of leaf litter, which hold the story of the forest: who has passed by recently and not so; male or female; what they've had for breakfast; where I might find dinner.

So I am quite happy walking in the landscape and Auntie Gill is too.  It would do her good to get her nose into some leaves and start to improve her pathetic sense of smell.  If she were a beagle, we would have had her to the olfactologist for smelling aids.  She really is a liability in her condition - so are the daddies.

After the M1, there were a lot of other roads and four hours later Auntie Gill announced, 'Boys, we're in Wales!'  Through the twilight and deluges, I could see sinister hills iced with thunderous clouds.  I was quite happy to be on the inside looking out.  It was another three hours before we arrived at the tip of the Gower peninsula, in the dark.

Auntie Gill needed help to stand up. She is not really compact enough for her car.  We took advantage of her difficulties and dashed off to inspect our new territory.  There was an odd, savoury scent that permeated everything.  So this is what makes a different country, we thought.

Tomorrow, we would see the sea.