23 February 2023 (Thursday) - A Muddy Walk

I woke when a wet nose shoved itself into my face this morning. Rather than getting up I let the puppies have ten minutes on the big bed as they really do love it.
 
I made toast, and as I scoffed it I had a look at the internet just in case anything much had changed overnight. It hadn’t really. I glossed over the petty bickering in the hope of finding something work looking at, and was sadly disappointed.
I sent out two birthday messages, and got the dogs ready for an outing.
 
As we drove the pundits on the radio were wittering on about someone or other who was some big cheese in the world of cinema. God only knows who it was, and after they’d wittered they then apologised for having got whoever-it-was’ name wrong. They didn’t apologize for getting Star Trek confused with Star Wars though. It was at  that point that I turned the radio off and sang along to my rather odd choice of MP3s.
 
We got to Kings Wood and went off for a little wander. Two of my geocaches up there had reports which made me think they’d gone missing, so I replaced both. And while I was at it I hid a new one.
As we walked we had a shock… some woman and her cart-horse-sized dog jumped out at us from behind a tree (not ten yards away) and she started shrieking about how her dog was scared of other dogs. My three stayed with me as we walked by. I made the observation that next time she might like to shout from a hundred yards away rather than hiding until we were almost on top of her, but there is no reasoning with some idiots.
With walk walked we came back to the car. I opened the boot, said “boot dogs” and helped Bailey in – she is too small to do “boot dogs” on her own. I then blasted the whistle and gave them a treat each… and then another idiot bustled over. She’d seen me with my three dogs before; she was impressed with how I handled them (that was nice!), but she had a word of advice for me. She also has “multiple dogs” and finds it far easier to walk them one at a time. She’d just walked one dog round the woods, and was going home to swap the walked dog for another. She seriously felt I would get on better by making the fifteen-minute drive to the woods with just Treacle, going four miles round the woods with her, then having half an hour’s round trip to drop Treacle at home and collect Morgan… and then with Bailey. I suggested that if I started at nine o’clock I would finish at four o’clock, and that wasn’t allowing for dinner.
Does anyone else attract these looneys?
 
As I drove home I was mystified by an odd beeping sound. I think it was “Hannah”; my GPS unit, but I’m not convinced it wasn’t the car whinging about something or other.
We got home and went from “boot dogs” to “bath dogs”, and once they were scruubed I got some KFC for us all to share for lunch.
As we scoffed I watched an episode of “Downton Abbey” which was rather sad as William the footman croaked. However in a triumph for puritans everywhere, Mister Matthew’s injury has put paid to any nudey prod games, so Miss Lavinia breathed a sigh of relief.
 
I then wrote up the geo-admin for the geocache I hid this morning (that took over an hour) and sent it all off to the geo-feds. If it gets the thumbs-up it will be the five hundredth one that I’ve hidden.
And then I slobbed in front of the telly underneath a pile of dogs… I do that a lot these days.
My face feels rough… I’ve not shaved today. I *always* have a shave. How did I forget?

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