It was a quiet day. Too quiet. I thought I was going to go out. And my pretty sky blue harness was all ready and I was miaouwing ready to go. Then for some reason we would never be able to know, Lynettea had to look at her email.
After lunch we went for walkies. I just missed Orla. I dashed forward, but by the time Lynettea had unlocked the side gate and I had dashed to the picket gate at the front porch, Orla had taken her human over the road and was vanishing into the distance. Lynettea was surprised I was so keen, as previously Orla (the Irish Dog from Next Door) has tried to make friends and I haven't been interested.
Orla out of sight, I pottered around a bit, sniffing at some of the piles of hard rubbish still resting on the footpath. People cruising past have removed the good items and real rubbish is left. Surely it is of use to someone. Nothing deserves to be totally crushed. Not even ancient hair-dryers. Lynettea's old hair-dryer is still poised on her old plastic garden chair, totally ignored. It still works, but it is so old, and she hasn't used it for so long, she decided to get rid of it. Maybe it is the world's oldest still working hair-dryer at around thirty plus years old.
We go in and I poke around among the bluebells. They are past their best. First piles of hail dumped on them and then a day of 24 C and now a cold day.
Like the weather I am changing my mind. Back inside for a refreshing sleep.