Doggy dawdling our way into the day
ON the mornings when I am not heading off to the stables in search of some equine therapy, I look to the greying collie dog as my exercise companion.
Now at the grand old age of 12, or 84 in human years, we only see little flashes of the zippy pup we brought home from Dartmoor over a decade ago. I still remember the journey home when ‘crossing the border’ at Gunnislake bridge proved too much for Jake, who on leaving the Devon side promptly shuffled off my lap (thankfully) and threw up. He’s come round to the idea of being a Cornish collie now, though!
Just like us, the tell-tale signs of ageing are becoming more apparent by the day. Once jet black and tan hair around the muzzle and eyes is turning all shades of grey, chances to sleep are taken at any opportunity and the joints aren’t as flexible as they used to be.
With squirrels and troublesome pet drakes being the exceptions, any wildlife which was once considered game to chase can now breathe a sigh of relief, as such an exertion of energy for no reason (he’d never catch anything even in his younger years) is way too much effort.
Nowadays there’s ample time to do a head count of the rabbits or admire the roe deer, as we don’t do a whole lot of brisk ‘walking’, but more dawdling! It’s comical, really. No sooner after a successful overtake manoeuvre, allowing me to stretch my legs and clock some meaningful steps on my phone’s pedometer app, Jake briskly trots on ahead, only to return to snail’s place moments later. And so it continues. Determined to be in front, even if he can’t actually handle the pace. Did I mention also how stubborn he’s become in his senior years?
Some mornings, I am even left to walk the fields by myself, as my socalled companion plants himself to the spot and refuses to entertain the idea of a stroll. Walks are definitely improved by the company of a pooch, even if the pooch in question is painfully slow!