I was walking Maggie along the river on a windy day earlier this Summer when I spotted a group of well dressed people standing in a clearing.
In the time it took me to figure out it was an al fresco wedding, the dog was already squatting to do a huge turd. Very embarrassing for me but apart from a few giggles from various guests, it didn’t seem to disturb the occasion too much. It appeared to be quite a low key event so I didn’t feel too bad. Of course I bagged it and scurried off as fast as I could.
That day came back to me yesterday as I was walking the dogs to the beach. Once again a well dressed crowd had collected in one of the green spaces under the trees. This time when Maggie was overcome by the need to empty her bowels right then and there, I was prepared. I honesty think no one even noticed, we were so stealthy as we went about our business.
We were actually on our way for swim across the river. Due to Catdog’s poor behaviour around other dogs ever since she was bitten by my friend’s allegedly friendly giant farm dogs, I tend to walk them separately. Swimming across the river is an exception, however, because they are always so well behaved. Ahem.
We swam to the other side, walked around for a while, and then swam back. In the old days the dogs would try to climb all over me when we went for a swim, but they’ve been much improved recently. They will still occasionally swim back to check on me if my slow breast stroke has left me too far behind, but normally they just strike out for the other bank and head off. This time we were a little further up the river than we usually are, and the dogs seemed to get excited by some nearby ducks and headed away at a higher speed than I was expecting. They disappeared into the reeds a minute or so ahead of my making landfall some distance away.
As I made my way back along the riverbank to where I’d last seen the dogs, I saw once again the crowd of well dressed people. A young woman was crouched beside the riverbank with a jar, and as I watched, tipped it up and poured some grey coloured powder into the water, while the crowd looked on, heads bowed, looking solemn or taking photos. It was a memorial service, with someone’s ashes being scattered. I tried to make my way past as surreptitiously as I could, but I couldn’t help looking wet and dishevelled, and more importantly, I had no idea where the dogs were. I tried calling their names, but quietly which of course defeated the purpose. Yes, I was worried the dogs might have drowned getting tangled up in the reeds, but my real fear was that they would stampede into the crowd, wet, badly behaved, chasing the wildlife and even perhaps leaping into the water where someone’s ashes were floating around. What a nightmare. I climbed down the riverbank and started to head into the reeds, only for the two dogs to suddenly appear, running towards me from different directions, full of excitement and with their harnesses all skewiff. I was so relieved, I gave them both treats for no good reason, adjusted their harnesses, put their leads on, and skulked off home.
Have I learned anything from this? Probably not, if history is anything to go by. But maybe, beware of large well dressed crowds.