Walking in the rain...

Most of you will know that on occasion, I allow the two furballs, Percy and Reg, to take over the keyboard. For those of you new to my blog, these are two miniature Schnauzers who share our life.  Percy is eleven years old, terribly sensible and intelligent and would have a voice not unlike that of a 1950s radio broadcaster.  He is polite, reads the Telegraph and never oversteps the mark.  Reg is seven and talks like an extra off TOWIE.  This is put on as he actually hails from Bath, but the accent suits his terrible behaviour.  He likes to shout at anyone within two feet of him, unless of course there is food, in which case he will gladly salivate all over your leg till you hand over the goodies.  

Let's hear their version of our adventure...

'So, young Reg.  Are you awfully excited about this trip with the humans?  Four weeks of expanding the brain at various historic sites, new friends to make, exciting sniffs, and loads of walking.  I do hope the weather will be kind.'

'Will there be any grub?' 

Percy raises one sardonic eyebrow. 'Well, I doubt they will starve us, Reg.  But never mind the food, think of the experiences, the late nights out under the stars, the cuddles with mum and dad and just the difference of it all'.

'I've 'eard there's squirrels up there.  And deers and sheeps, and men what wear skirts and no drawers'.  'I 'ope my nose reaches far enough to goose 'em'.  This is where Reg loses all control and does high speed scooting on his backside around the carpet.  He has told Percy he was a breakdancer in a previous life, but Percy is not convinced.  He thinks that worms might be an alternative reason.

'Anyway, young Reg.  It's deer and sheep, no need to add the s to make them plural'. (I told you he was clever).

'But wha' abart the wevver?' asks Reg.  'I've been told by Sid (West Highland Terrier friend of theirs) that it blinkin' rains every second of the day.  I 'ate rain'.

'Well young Reg, as dad often says as he's donning one of his many raincoats, we aren't biscuits'.

'Oo said biscuits?'

Percy raises eyes to the ceiling for the second time that day.

Fast forward three weeks, and the two furballs are snuggled up in blankets after a beautiful walk through the heather with the husband. They have had treats, cuddles, new experiences, seen deer and tried shellfish (Reg realised very quickly that there was food inside some shells washed up on the shore).

'So young Reg', says Percy after a particularly interesting walk around another castle, 'what do you think of the last three weeks?'

'Well Percy, me old cocker.  I've lost three pounds of weight, I've been wet more times that a kipper in a shower, and I'm bleedin' knackered'.

I knew they'd love it...