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The elusive saluki : an unrealistic and gothick tale
I spent two hours yesterday walking, and then running through increasingly darkening woodland in woeful pursuit of Rosie Roo, who had somehow lost me.
In the woods, where black shapes of trees stood starkly against the darkening sky, strange noises came out of the dark: most notably a vast grumbling hissing rumble which I cannot explain except by introducing a dragon.
In the woods, where black shapes of trees stood starkly against the darkening sky, strange noises came out of the dark: most notably a vast grumbling hissing rumble which I cannot explain except by introducing a dragon.
I became convinced Rosie had somehow got into a field and had been trompled by cows, for the cows were wild and frisky and kept gallopping about madly in the manner of cows that have seen a dog and trompled it. But Brythen assured me that all would be well. I was covered in mud, soaking wet and well scratched by this time so it was all very hurt/comfort.
At last, we heard a terrible unearthly wailing upon the mire, which turned out to be the missing hound, who had finally looked around and realised I was no longer behind her, and therefore believed I had abandoned her. She was very pleased to see me, when Brythen and I finally staggered out of the bushes (well, I staggered. Brythen pranced, strong, elegant and not even muddy).
At last, we heard a terrible unearthly wailing upon the mire, which turned out to be the missing hound, who had finally looked around and realised I was no longer behind her, and therefore believed I had abandoned her. She was very pleased to see me, when Brythen and I finally staggered out of the bushes (well, I staggered. Brythen pranced, strong, elegant and not even muddy).
If there is a next time, I am just going straight back to the car, since clearly she has no difficulty finding her way back there on her own, and she, too, was not even particularly muddy. She stood there glowing in the moonlight like a unicorn, only prettier.
Whoever is scripting this stuff seems to have absolutely no concern for realism or indeed my dignity.
Whoever is scripting this stuff seems to have absolutely no concern for realism or indeed my dignity.
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Oh, Rosie! What a worry! I'm glad you were safely reunited, and hope there's no ill effects this morning.
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I am glad she's not stompled by cows or eaten by dragons, but it does sound like treating her like a cat stuck up a tree might be the way to go!
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I actually saw one of the owls, which you so often don't, and at one point I could not work out where the tragic howling was coming from, because all around me in the tree-infested blackness were owls loudly replying to it, and me.
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Glad you are all safe and sound, that is indeed a gothic tale ;)
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Thankfully, she never has been a one to jump fences. Physically she's entirely capable of it, of course, but it's not something that she does as a routine thing. (the same used to be true of going under gates, but sadly Brythen has taught her how to do that now).
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Who taught Brythen to go under gates, or is that natural depravity? As long as no one teaches the cows to jump fences we're ok...
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(At the age of 10 months, he buggered off from his traveller owners, who did not fancy paying a fine to get him back, so he ended up in rescue and came to me to enjoy his current life of luxury! )
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If mildly annoyed at myself for falling for it once again...
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(whenever this sort of thing happens I swear off sighthounds. But I never stick to it. Who wouldn't want a pet that is part dog, part cheetah, part rollercoaster and part Ferrari...? )
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