Sea Air

Tuesday dawned blustery with sunny intervals between showers.  After breakfast, while Auntie Gill prepared for the beach expedition, Brahms and I explored our new surroundings and I found a way to escape.  Goody Two Shoes Brahms wouldn't come with me and barked just as I was trotting past the gate, alerting Auntie Gill, who spotted me from the farmhouse door.  I've never seen her move so fast.  Bugger! I thought to myself. I was going to be for it, so I decided to keep on to the end of the road and check out the village.

I allowed myself to be caught at the litter bin by the bus stop, whose scents were a mine of information.  I discerned that two West Highland Whites were in the vicinity and a Doberman had passed by recently.  Auntie Gill thundered down the road looking red and agitated.  She tried various tactics: a very stern 'Come here Bartok!' and when that didn't work, she tried wheedling and bribing me with treats.  I allowed her to grab my collar and submitted meekly whilst enduring the reprimands.  She locked me in the cage when we got back and I wasn't allowed out until it was time for walkies.  By then she had discovered my escape route, blocked it off with a hefty metal barrier and looked smug about it.

It takes Auntie Gill ages to get ready and she is always forgetting things, but there is no mistaking the moment to go, because she puts her bag, with the red bone poop bag dispenser (I wish she wouldn't display it so publicly.) across her shoulder and beagles are off.  I submit to the harness with dignity, although when she's not looking I'm quietly gnawing away at one of the straps and one day ....

'No!' she groaned on opening the door to rain.  I can't say I was thrilled, but we were determined to see the sea, so we dragged her gate-wards before she could bottle out.  Then we waited a ridiculous time at the road-side for no cars. We know this because we can hear better, but we have still have to wait while she looks.  She doesn't trust us, that's apparent.

Despite my best efforts to avoid it, we crossed by the litter bin and I received yet another reprimand for my earlier misdemeanour.  Auntie Gill really is like a beagle with a bone; she won't let go!  I have learned that the best way to deal with this is to perform a 'good boy' sit, gaze at her adoringly and twitch my ears, before drooping with shame.  She immediately forgives me, makes a fuss and says she doesn't like getting cross with me.  I droop a little longer, just to convince her of my sincerity and then slowly lift my eyes to meet hers.  If she is still stone-like, I emit a few bars from the Song of Despair and she cracks every time.


At last we were heading down a divinely sniffy track that reeked of sheep, rabbits, horses and Farmer Jones's wellies.  Neat wire  fencing kept the sheep confined and despite my best rootling I could detect no way in. We had to stay on the lead, but the excitement was unbearable.  Auntie Gill was urging calm and patience, but how do you react to delay?  (Auntie Gill becomes very impatient and agitated - you should have heard her in the car on the way here.)  However, we rootled the best we could, looking forward to freedom at the last gate.

The big shiny thing

'Look Boys!  There's the sea!' Auntie Gill was transfixed by a big shiny thing in the distance.  'Smell the air Boys!  It's so clean!'  Noses aloft, we sniffed.  I snorted, inhaled and exhaled vigorously.  'Smell the sea air Boys!' There was that pervading smell again.  So this is the scent of sea, I thought.  Dull, dull, dull!  There were few odours and not much I recognised, yet in contrast, scent heaven was oozing from beneath my feet. And there were sheep wandering free on the cliffs!  I wanted to Chase desperately.  Auntie Gill said, 'No Boys, I'm not letting you off the lead.  I can't trust you not to chase sheep!'

Gloom.  That was it.   We tried pleading, barking, whistling and as a last resort the Song of Anguish, but she turned deaf ears.  I know she was fed up too, because she was looking forward to a rest and looked saggy.  We walked the cliffs and then over the moors, where we observed horses running free!  It didn't seem fair.  The walk was hard work as we had to half drag Auntie Gill up hills.  We staggered back to the farmhouse.  I was pissed off that I hadn't been able to run fast.  Auntie Gill promises the beach tomorrow is great for running.  I hope it doesn't turn out to be as great as its view or smell.