Duck, or grouse!

The cast:
Willow_the_dog: A dog
Gaz Hunter: A human (allegedly)
Desmond: A drake
Dinah: A duck

5:30 AM, the veil of night is lifting. Strands of mist shroud the stream, whilst in the distance the dawn chorus becomes a virtuoso performance, with the occasional drum-solo of a woodpecker.

In the park, Willow The Dog is engaged in her favourite...no, seco...third favourite past-time[1], nose to the grassy banks of the river, voraciously hoovering up the smells of the night, the trail that history has left, like a little doggy newspaper. Without the page 3.

Gaz Hunter, still vaguely stunned from the early-ness of the hour, is watching from a distance, trying to imagine what thought processes are going on in that little doggy head, as the little doggy tail [2] wags furiously as the little doggy brain[3] proesses the last olfatory *And Finally*. His eyes follow the river bank, and suddenly he is wide awake, for he has spotted, in a clump of grass a little further along the bank, Desmond and Dinah, two freeholders of the riverbank estate, nestling together and trying to avoid the damp and cold...and Willow's nose, and the rest of her, is on an accidental intercept course.

Both sets of players are entirely unaware of the other. Wilow happily snuffling, Desmond and Delilah canoodling, making occasional quiet *waaark* noies to each other, when suddenly...

I am not sure where Willow's nose interrupted the duo[4], but it caught them mid-canood. The exlosion that followed was magnificent. Two unprepared chinese meals burst from the grass at 90 degrees to each other, whilst the Great Wolf, red of tooth and claw, took a back seat to the likkle puppydog, red of cheek, who tried to go at 90 degrees to herself, and managed to land on her back, roll frantically upright, then slide gracefully, yet with appreciable acceleration, into the river.

Which is why, dear reader, I have had to sacrifice my fluffy Blankie to The Dipstick Dog of Doom, to try and give her back a little dignitiy, and get rid of the smell of river...


[1] First is eating. Second is sleeping.
[2] Not actually small...known to wipe passing bicycles and small children into a heap on the floor.
[3] Actually that small. Pea-sized, I would guess.
[4] I fear she may have goosed a duck...

I can just imagine where that cold wet nose went - and no surprise the ducks disappeared so quickly

Well written, Gaz

Um...you're welcome?
I think...

awww poor Willow, great story telling

Brilliant! As always!

Very amusing, as usual

There's a very select club for daft dogs who fall in rivers - my Stumpy is a member so she certainly wouldn't laugh at Willow's embarrassing episode (well not much anyway)

brilliant as ever