I hate wellies, well to be more exact, I hate it when my Dad wears his wellies on our walks cos he can’t play football properly. Usually in his shoes or boots he can at least kick the ball and flick it up for me to catch but once he has his wellies on he’s useless. Says it’s because he can’t ‘feel’ the ball but I don’t see what difference it makes. Anyway, once we are on the sand the surface keeps changing as we move along the shore and if I can just kick the ball hard enough I can get it into the sea. If I can do this then my Dad just stands there at the water’s edge telling to ‘fetch it’ – I can be very deaf sometimes.
To get back to the subject of this rant, I guess my Dad isn’t at his best when the weather is wet and windy. I think that this morning it was a bit cold what with the blustery wind and the bits of sleet pelting us so maybe he was justified in getting himself dressed up to look like the Michelin Man but he could give me some consideration and at least not put his wellies on. After all, I’m out in the same conditions and if I don’t mind it then why should he. Oh and another thing I’m less than impressed with is having to wear my coat – Dad says I look very smart in it and some people that we meet also admire my physique in it but it really does cramp my style. I mean how can I pounce on the ball when the coat tails stop me stretching out fully and who can look their best when the wind whips up the rear of the coat and plants it on my head?
Well I suppose that we have had a spell of dry walks and I did find that really smelly bit of cow pooh the other day – you should have seen my Dad’s face (or rather his nose) when he got a whiff. He ended up washing my collar and coat but I think I can just get a little hint of that scent still, it’s really good.
Ah well we’ll have to see if the afternoon walk is any better today.