We went for an amazing walk yesterday. I romped through the fields and chased all sorts of birds. It was almost perfect. The only thing that marred the day was the moles. I think the moles are Romans. At least the ones outside the back gate are. There is a very straight line of mole holes going all the way along the bank on each side of the bridleway. There are about 30 holes consecutively on each side. It looks as though there is a very large invasion being planned. For that matter they seem to be operating in a very organised fashion. I’m not sure if I am happy that I will have left before they launch an invasion or if I wish I could stay to see what happens. Ok, I am sure. I am disappointed that I won’t be here to see just what havoc organised legions of Marcus Claudius Mole could achieve.
Yesterday had some very bad moments in too. My mistress rounded all my toys up for me from around the garden. I thought it was jolly decent of her all things considered. That was until she took pink rhino, two soggy ropes and two chewed Frisbys over to the dustbin and dropped them in. “What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted with all the pathetic whimpering of a distraught dog. “You can’t throw my toys away.” Actually, it turned out she could throw my toys away and there wasn’t a great deal I could do about it. She has promised to take me shopping for some new ones when we get to England but I’m not sure if that was just a way to quieten me down. I will admit one of the Frisby’s was supposed to go in the bin when I got the replacement and pink rhino had decayed almost beyond recognition, but the ropes were just filthy. To be honest I like them better that way but I am alone in my thinking.