If the storms we had before Christmas can be called a “weather bomb”, then what we’re currently enduring has to be a “weather nuke”. Here’s what nearby Troon looked like at high tide the other night:
Of course the thing about having doggies – especially doggies who like their exercise – is that we can’t stay huddled up inside, hoping that the roof stays attached to the house. Nope, we’ve got to get out there and give the little beggars their walkies!
I’d always rather run than walk when the weather is foul, and over the last week I’ve had the dubious pleasure of jogging along the beach against 30+ mph winds, and that’s at the calmest times of the day. Ordinarily Beanie & especially Biggles really like windy outings – they get extra frisky and have loads of madcap chases when I let them offlead. Unfortunately the current winds have also been accompanied by near-horizontal rain and hail, and that is something that our two Beagles aren’t so keen on. On the return leg of our most recent run they were pressed against each other and trying to use me as shelter as we struggled to back to the car. Little surprise then that Biggles has been pulling a disappearing act at walkies time!
Where’s Biggles? Hiding in the spare duvet in our wardrobe, that’s where.
Even ordinary walks have become difficult. The roads and pavements are strewn with rubbish from overturned bins and Beanie considers it her solemn duty to pick up and attempt to speed-swallow every last bit of it. Every few yards I have to stop and whip off my gloves to extract Beanie’s latest acquisition from her jaws.
We’re free of such problems if we stick to the country lanes, but then again they have hazards of their own. The other day we were picking our way through some fallen tree debris when Biggles suddenly reared up on his back legs, his little face filled with horror as he held up one his front paws, barely daring to look at it. Remember that scene in Terminator 2 when the T-1000 loses his hand to the liquid nitrogen and regards the stump in open-mouthed shock? That was Biggles. For a second he had me convinced that he’d really injured himself, but then I remembered the last time we saw such an extreme reaction from him. Yes, I’m talking about the fateful day Beanie’s squeaky squirrel tug toy briefly wrapped itself around one of his legs during a play session. Now I don’t want to imply that Biggles is hopelessly soft, but suffice to say that the paw situation was resolved by extracting a small piece of twig from between his toes and rubbing his tootsies better for a second or two.
Even as Biggles recuperates from his encounter with the demon twig, the forecasts warn that the stormy conditions will continue well into next week. What new horrors lay ahead for my stoic little boy?