In the Dog House

Anyone else out there?

As I sit here this evening reflecting on my day, I do sometimes wonder if there are other mums out there having the same sort of days that I do. Or am I just destined to lead a life full of mishaps and “head-in-hands” moments? This evening was no exception. Doing walks with the dog at the moment is my job, as hubbie is trekking through the “wilds” of France and the UK on public transport. That’s another story! Good luck to him with that at the moment, as the trains are on strike and it is pouring with rain. However, this evening was one of those days when I wished we could have swapped places. Excitable doggie that we have, she dashed like a rocket (as per usual) out of the front door, barging through the garden gate and starting her “refuse collection” from moment zero, once past the communal garden. Not dreadful, I’m well used to that. Whilst avoiding and skipping past the tissues and sweet wrappers (that’s both of us by the way!) we make it to the main road junction ready to cross over and follow our usual path. Oh no. Not me tonight. I had a brainwave. I really should be wary of those by now. “Let’s have a change of scenery,” I thought to myself. “Let’s have a bit of an adventure.” For those of you that don’t know, we are in a large French village, not in the wilds of Africa… so adventure will be just a different variety of houses along the main road. But hey. Why not?

Sledging!

Let me remind you we have a sledging dog. Most of the time, even 95%, of the time she is good, gentle and easy-going. However, if she gets a bee in her bonnet about something, or if she see a cat running away, whoosh. Those sledging legs get going and she can probably pull a 100kg person with no problems, especially if there is a bit of skiddiness on the floor. Amazingly powerful dog, her running action is second to none. Did I mention that it had been raining that day? And there were leaves on the ground, crushed to mush by the passing cars? Maybe I didn’t mention before that if she decides to get anything in her mouth, you only have perhaps a 20% chance of getting it back. Yes, we have done dog training. But she is a stubborn breed. Very easily distracted. And highly intelligent. Sigh.

Not straight on

So, I turned left. This should have been no problem. The “boulangerie” just on the corner was bustling with cars drawing up to the shop, parking or else leaving. “Flutes” and “baguettes” coming out of the store, the wonderful smells of cakes and freshly-baked bread filtering out into the early evening air. A bit of a different atmosphere compared to the generally quiet roads we usually take. I was on the look-out for the inevitable tissues that she gobbles without exception, and would even hunt for in piles of leaves or in unprotected coat pockets. Suddenly she pounced. There, on a low wall, was an unprotected scarf that had perhaps been temporarily discarded or forgotten. Immediately there was the struggle of wills and the struggle to get it out of her mouth. But she had decided. It was going to be hers. She tried every trick in the book. I desperately looked around hoping (without really having any) that the owner wasn’t close by.

And then she started to run. You must have seen those videos on YouTube or social media. There are classic clips where the person gets dragged through the mud or across roads, caught by car cams or doorbell cams. I had just become the main protagonist. Her running stance had changed, the scarf tucked neatly under her chin, and I am afraid I started to get dragged along. But she’s not stupid. Usually when she’s out, she never wants to go home. But this time as I tripped and jogged, stumbled and followed, she ran all the way home. Shooting through the gate, she hid under the bench with her treasure. I made it back too, physically at least. Luckily she is a dog that is ruled by her stomach, and a bit of ham quickly distracted her temporarily, long enough to whip the scarf away to her profound displeasure. Goodness knows if the person was going to come back for their scarf. I now just feel a profound wave of embarrassment every time I glance over at the scarf, now sitting innocently in the laundry basket ready to be washed.

Regions of France

I was going to write about the regions of France, and how they all have their positive and negative points. How it was purely by chance that we arrived in the Tarn-et-Garonne, and how the Pyrénées was originally our first choice when we first moved out here. But instead I find myself still looking at this scarf and wondering. Wondering if I should put it back on the wall, or should I keep it? What do I do with this scarf? (And the dog?)

Well, she’s now hiding under the stairs. Her little black eyes slowly blink, staring at me, unmoving. Trying to make sure her point is being made.

She’s most definitely in the dog house. Or is it me?

MidLife Crisis In France