IT’S a sad time of year for a hotel dog. The end of the season looms close and the hotel kitchen scraps come to an abrupt end.
From mid-November onwards it’s mostly just dry dog food, which is hardly going to produce a waggy tail.
However I’ve been cocking my ears because there is talk of the master and mistress checking all of the hotel’s walking routes this winter. This means different tracks for me and some proper walks that take half or even full days!
I am also hoping that, given we have over three months for maybe 20 different walks, the old master will choose sunny days for the excursions.
I’m not good on technology – hell of a job to punch keys with my paws – but I do know that there are such things as weather forecasts. Last weekend, with the threat of storms, we set off on an hour’s walk along the Atlantic coast. Why? Just tell me why?
Five minutes in, the heavens open, thunder rumbles, he gets soaked, I get soaked and I can hear him saying things like: “Hey Ed, not many other people or dogs are out enjoying this.”
He’s right about one thing. There is NOBODY else out.
As for enjoying? How sad is his life? How crazy is he? I’ve got a comfortable, warm and dry basket and here we are, striding across gale-blown, rain-blasted sand dunes.
But I’m a good dog and go along with it all. It’s best to humour him even if it hard to keep my tail flying at full mast..
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