Going to the dogs

The hotel in the Lakes that we had an eye on was promoting a doggy deal. It was encouraging dog owners and their pooches to fill up some otherwise sparsely occupied November bed space - probably not literally, but who knows?

The deal for those without dogs was also attractive, in fact the two deals varied by exactly £1.00, per night. We took it, no dog and all.

There were plenty of dogs around. For a time, one of the comfy settees in the lounge was out of bounds after a little accident. Obviously, a small child or an incontinent elderly person could equally have caused such a problem, so no rushing to judgement. Children and dogs are great conversation starters for grown-ups, so we felt a bit left out, being in possession of neither and simply observing at a drool-free distance.

While I was encouraging my knees to see me safely down Great Crag the next day, we passed a young shepherd bounding up in the other direction and barely breaking sweat. He was accompanied by half a dozen sheep and one of those “Black Bob” sheep dogs. As it was obviously dog week for us, I showed polite interest in the “rounder-upper,” as it hadn’t slobbered on my hand, put muddy marks on my trousers [there were enough of those already, as it happened] or barked at me, as they often like to do back home on the trail. “She’s four-years-old and she’s rubbish,” he said, “She just sits in front of the fire and gets up occasionally to frighten the postman. Her mother was a better dog.”

Since we arrived back home, I have already noticed Christmas adverts for dog beer stocking fillers, Barbour coats for dogs and the Santa Paw’s Dog Grotto at Sherwood Forest Country Park.

I went to what I thought was going to be a dog-free, Great Central Railwayana Auction at Stoneleigh on Saturday, then lot 164 came up. It sold for £340, suggesting that doggy posters are not just for Christmas, either.