Last week I asked the hubs if he wanted to go for a rural country drive.
“Where in the name of jay**s and all the saints are we going?”
“To see a man about a dog”. And I meant it, literally.
So, after 2 and a half hours driving over what was only 40 kilometres in the end, down lanes, and through crossroads with signposts turned the opposite and wrong way round, we finally landed on the farm. The directions the farmer had given us were creative to say the least. We were introduced to the parents first, both being gregariously sociable (was I glad I had my old gear and boots on) and then we were shown the 12 week old babies. Two brothers and two sisters. After ages trying to decide, and wanting to bring them all home – the hubs nearly choked and the farmer grinned, I went with my gut and chose this bright, but gentle miss….
Yes, she chews my slippers and opens the hubs shoelaces when he’s having a disco nap on the sofa.
Yes she piddles…a LOT! A donation of a teaspoonful every hour approximately. Bet you wanted to know that!
But she’s now part of the family, the kids adore her and she adores them and I’ve got used to carrying a mop with disinfectant under my arm for much of the day while puppy training. We have had dogs from rescue homes in the past, but we’ve always wanted a Yorkshire Terrier, not a Teacup Yorkie which I’d be terrified would get squashed or stood on!
On another trip this week we went to our local woods, where wild garlic grows rampant every year, and gathered basket loads for drying.
Wild Garlic in the background as far as the eye can see
I’m in the process of drying our massive wild harvest and will have the results with a recipe next week
Never pick any leaves you are unsure of when out rambling and foraging by the way 🙂
Till next time,