Down by the river...

It must have something to do with the weather, but for the past week I have been taking new paths with the dogs, all of which have been close to the river.  Now water is a relatively new thing for Percy and Reg, and whereas Percy will dabble in the sea up to his knees like a turn of the century matron with her skirt tucked in her voluminous drawers, Reg struggles with the hosepipe...whether on or off.

Yesterday's walk was a completely new one for me as it proclaimed to be a Nature Reserve as well as being a riverside walk.  Clipping the dogs onto their leads to avoid any contretemps with deer, badgers, rabbits or any other unsuspecting animal we happened to chance upon, we set out on the  very narrow path.

Walking further on, the path got narrower, and I regretted my decision of shorts as suitable walking apparel.  Within fifteen minutes my legs were lacerated by nettles, spiky grasses and thistles and something with teeth like a sabre toothed tiger had had a good old go at my ankle, but we kept going, as fifteen minutes does not count as a walk for my two.    Even when the undergrowth started becoming more of an overgrowth as I could no longer see over the top of it, I carried on, using my handbag to carve a way through the greenery.  Why I felt it necessary to start wittering on about 'wummaging fru de undergrowf' a la David Bellamy is anyone's guess.  I am sure that it's why the elderly couple coming in the opposite direction who caught the tale end of my terrible impersonation smiled at me rather quickly as they hurried past.  

Embarrassment over, we reached a small opening with a bay which the boys could explore.  Percy hopped down and had a good drink before staring at me with those 'throw me a stick' eyes.  So he was in and out of the river, getting lovely and cool.  Reg on the other hand wouldn't venture further than the bank, so my arms were stretched out in opposite directions as I tried to keep control of a reluctant Reg and a rather over exuberant Percy who by now resembled a seal.

And then it all came to a head.

A boat, carrying four rather squiffy adults shot past the bay, and seeing what was heading my way, I had to make a decision.  I couldn't pull Percy out of the river as he was some way out and would have taken some time to walk back to the bay (he never goes out of his depth).  Reg was refusing to come down - if he had, I could have stuck him in the river too and climbed to the comparative safety of the bank, so I was stuck in the bay...in shorts and plimsolls.

The wash, when it eventually hit us was like a mini tsunami (isn't there a speed limit on the wet stuff by the way?) and Percy bobbed up and down as his feet finally left the floor for the first time ever.  Reg remained on the bank, his eyes as large as saucers as the water rushed towards us, and I just stood there watching the water lap over my plimsolls.

So there was no need for whistling or bad impersonations on the way back to warn walkers and animals that we were coming through.  The squelchy farting pumps made more than enough noise, and I expect that somewhere in that undergrowth, some small mammal was listening to the noise and wondering what the hell was coming its way.

We shall be avoiding that one for a while I feel....