The Disappointed Dog

How do you tell a dog that his favourite neighbour has moved a hundred miles away?  That he can stand outside her (former) front door all day long - it won’t open.

Carol has been like a Grandma to Joss.  In a doggy kind of a way.

When we first began calling at her house, further along the village, Joss would quietly help himself to Misty the cat’s biscuits and any meat she had left in her bowl.

As Carol grew fonder of Joss (it didn’t take long), she began to pass him surreptitious scraps from her own plate when she thought I wasn’t looking (that never happens at home…oh, no!).

Before long, the scraps had progressed to packets of cooked meat bought in specially for the adoring hound.  Joss truly thought Carol’s house was doggy heaven.

Good things, however, have an awkward habit of coming to an end.  So Carol has gone.  And I’m left with the impossible task of trying to explain to a wistful creature why his supply of corned beef has suddenly dried up.

I just hope whoever moves into number 38 next likes dogs.  There’s one waiting on the doorstep…

For the Love of Poppies

I’m sharing this pic with you for the simple reason that I love poppies (who doesn’t?); but you don’t get many of them growing wild in the Pennines.

Not so in Suffolk.  Last weekend I came across fields and fields of them, stretching pretty much as far as the eye could see.

Odd that the only photo I thought to take was this quick snap with my iPhone.  Obviously too busy doing foraging-y things.

But t’will do.  You get the idea.  If poppies are your thing and you live in a poppy-free zone, then head to Suffolk.  Now.

Little Owl

Came home at dusk the other evening and found this baby sitting on the wall outside our house.

He’d only flown the nest a day or two before….and perhaps he’d yet to learn that it’s wise to keep yourself tucked away from humans and marauding cats.

We stared at each other for the longest time. He wasn’t the least fazed.  Didn’t even object to me snapping a picture with my iPhone.

He was born in the same nesting spot in the hollow of a tree trunk as last year’s tawny owls.  Managed to fall out of it like one of last year’s brood, too (did he fall or was he pushed?).

Despite that, he’s made it to fully-fledged owlhood and is now finding his wings in the field behind us.

I wish you well, Little Owl….