It’s been a funny old day today. Graham was out teaching a
navigation course, friends who’d come for the weekend had left this morning, and I’d decided to go out and wash the car, when this little brown and white dog – not unlike Bertie in some ways – suddenly appeared in the garden.
Bert gave him short shrift at first, but he was really friendly, sweet-natured and playful – and extremely persistent. He was wearing a collar but had no tag, and looked healthy enough, but smelt dreadful.
I rather distractedly finished making a very bad job of washing the car, and then took Bert inside, hoping Stray Dog would eventually get bored and take himself to his own home. But like I said, he was extremely persistent. He sat outside the door, whining.
I phoned the police, the RSPCA and the local council’s emergency number, but nobody was interested. It was Sunday and it seems dogs shouldn’t stray at weekends – there’s nobody to deal with them. I’m sure he’s probably fine anyway – probably he’s a local farm dog who takes himself off for a walk every now and again – but you can never be sure and I hated the thought of him having nowhere to go.
A couple of hours later, time for Bert’s afternoon walk, and Stray Dog was still there. He followed us on the whole of the walk and, eventually, his determination to play wore Bert down, and the two of them ended up having an absolute whale of time all around the big empty fields above the house.
But all good things must come to an end, and eventually I had to head home and shut the door on Stray Dog again. He hung around outside for a while, but as darkness fell he disappeared.
I’m sure he’s just gone home for his supper, but I still feel terribly guilty!