Warning, this post does not contain images of Spud the dog.
Keen readers will know I’ve been away to Wales this weekend, with Mrs Ogg, unfortunately Spud the dog couldn’t come along, which is a shame as he would have enjoyed the wide open beaches. We thought of him often.
Not least when Mrs Ogg and I were walking the coast path when we saw movement in the gorse bushes* and, every now and then, a flash of white, can you see, it’s a bit blurry because it is moving very fast?
Who ever and whatever was in there was having a high old time, crashing and thrashing around ‘it’ eventually, surfaced for air, it was a Spud dog.
Not a grown up or human minder in sight, just a very happy dog, who had no time for or interest in Mrs Ogg and I, only in whatever game was hiding in the heath. Presumably he/she would find his/her own way home, eventually.
Spud will return to pole position next Sunday, I promise.
*For those of you old enough to remember it was like Michael Bentine’s sketch show Potty Time