Water Dog…

Charlie loves to run in the water along the verges of Rigsby and recently there’s been plenty for her to charge through kicking up a spray and snapping at the droplets,


even breaking ice on particularly chilly mornings when she catches up with me as I venture out well bundled.

Some of the culverts have been carrying water from lakes and ponds and draining them into gulleys swelling their shallow banks.

The other day I saw Charlie disappear through the flaxen grasses into a pond that is usually a small puddle on a hot summer’s day.

I followed her and watched as she twirled around, lapping furiously, the water slapping against her under-belly, a real water dog.


When she saw me she clambered out with gusto,


and shook herself vigorously, spraying me generously with the freezing water.

“Charlie!” I cried wiping my face.

Then off she ran, energized for the second half of our walk all drips and mud and bedraggled-ness.

I shivered and sped up.

Did I write earlier in the month about the wisdom of dogs?

Charlie’s display that day proved they are also bound to follow their instincts.

Share this:

No comments so far!

Leave a Comment