It was so absolutely gorgeous yesterday that Cuppa and I decided to have our first picnic. I was in shirtsleeves (hooray!) for the first time this year. We didn't go far because there was a turkey stew simmering on the stove. There was a lady and a dog in the local park that we chose. The lady wasn't young; the dog was. She, the lady, was just getting onto a blanket and starting to remove some clothes. I fervently hoped that she wouldn't go too very far, and, thankfully, she didn't.
The dog, Sadie was her name, was a rather delightful young thing. She bounded about with a tremendous joie de vivre that suited the day so wonderfully well: by the water, in the water, over here, over there, by the lady, over to see us. What energy!
We set about enjoying our lunch. I had bought very fresh submarine buns that morning and a bag of chips. I love chips but try not to indulge too often as my waistline is taking a terrible beating as it is. Sigh.
As we watched Sadie cavorting about, it became apparent to us that she was on her own, that she didn't belong to the recumbent lady. In vain, we looked all about for another human, but there was no one to be seen.
We began to fret about Sadie, who was certainly not fretting at all but having the time of her life. Being a dog, she'd get into the water and then come and shake herself by our feet. No amount of hollering could avoid that. Being a friendly and exuberant pup, she kept bound up onto us, particularly Cuppa, with wet body and muddy feet.
She had a tag that was hard enough to read anyway but doubly so with her propensity to move all parts of her body at once. We finally obtained a number, and we were asked to secure her until Animal Control could come by to keep her in custody until she should be claimed. And I am sure that she would be, for a household used to a life force like Sadie would miss her indeed.