It’s raining hard. I can hear it battering the windows and when I glance out and look at the puddles they are speckled with rain drops. Lilly my border collie snuggles deeper into the warmth of the bed. She looks at me as if to say, “look let’s do the walk later, you go off out and do some shopping, I don’t mind really and I will just stay here, in the warm, where it’s comfortable. And warm!” I show no mercy though. Frustrated by lying awake listening to what laughingly passes as the English cricket team suffer yet another day of humiliation down under, I leap out and pull the covers off. She needs to go out. She has things to do. The wind hurls some more rain at the window. “Come on “I say, mustering as much enthusiasm as I can and head off down stairs. I call her again. No reply. Not the usual sound of a thump and the rush of excited feet tumbling down stairs. So I squeeze the ball. And there she is. Minutes later we are suited, booted, with Frisbee and ball and we are off. And it has stopped raining. Excited, now she is setting the pace, pulling at the lead, irritated by this slacker of a human who lags behind holding her up.
Off across the Moors, boots squelching in the rain soaked turf, feeling the freedom flowing through my veins, Lilly the Collie leaping and bouncing on the soft ground chasing the Frisbee or rushing off after an interesting scent. The peace is temporarily shattered as a Grouse breaks cover and Lilly races after it, ignoring the fact that she can’t fly until eventually the Grouse seeks refuge higher up and Lilly chastened slinks back, and worries me to throw the Frisbee for her. Frisbee’s are OK they can be caught.
Back home, boots off and paws wiped and dried, I sit and drink tea. Lilly gets her ball out and nudges it across the floor towards me. Being indoors doesn’t stop us playing, she is saying.