Captain Midnight here, reporting from the mobile kennel (or the campervan as Himself calls it) on a farm somewhere in Ireland. He did tell me the name of where we are but it slipped my mind after the riverbank debacle. You probably noticed that I’m still a bit wet, especially round the ears. Does anyone know why they take so long to dry? Beats me.
Why am I wet?
That was the riverbank thing.
Himself said that he was bored sitting down and writing all day.
“Let’s go for a walk then,” I gestured.
“Ooh yes,” he said, jumping up on his hindlegs, all excited.
So I clipped him to the lead to stop him getting lost and took him down the path to the river for a stroll. I decided to let him off once we were clear of the farm and he couldn’t chase the livestock. Naturally, I went ahead to check for danger and interesting smells and came across the river. It looked rather inviting so I got into the water: a stylish leap followed by a bit of doggy paddle.
Getting in wasn’t the problem, it was getting out again.
Somehow the bank was further up than it had been down. I didn’t want to use my Superdog powers of levitation in broad daylight so I woofed until Himself clambered down the bank and hoicked me out by the collar. He made a fuss of me; asked if I was alright; gave me a cuddle; suggested that I didn’t do it again; then walked on ahead as if he was the one in charge. All rather embarrassing.
Himself is only a pup and you’re probably thinking that I shouldn’t have let him off the lead. But how else is he going to learn?
Coming Home to Story 