Mud, mud, glorious mud

For the last few weeks our walks have been all about mud. 

I’m used to getting rained on. I think I’ve been soaked every day this year, as has Flossie. But the mud has been on another level. Every day we trudge through sticky, slippery gloop, regularly getting splattered just by walking in it or from passing cars.

Some cars seem to speed up as they drive past, spraying dirty water all over me. I’ve stopped being annoyed. I’m resigned to the fact that there’ll be a massive clean up operation when we get home, so what’s another splatter or two? 

I squelch through the mud with gritted teeth. Flossie doesn’t seem to mind it. I think having four paws makes it easier. I struggle to stay upright. A couple of times I haven’t managed it.

My heavy duty boots now have cracks in them. I learnt this the hard way. I had no choice but to step into a deep, muddy puddle to pass through a stile. I instantly felt the brown water seep into my socks. 

Sensible walkers are enrobed in full-length hooded waterproofs that obscure their faces. I’ve waved at people not really knowing who I was waving to (nothing new there!). Dogs are wrapped up in a variety of coats to protect them, some looking reluctant to be outside at all. 

Flossie and I are a little more hardy, or foolish, I’m not sure which. I don’t own any waterproof trousers and Flossie doesn’t wear special clothes outside, preferring to sport her natural fur coat. She does have a cosy fleece-lined drying coat to wear once she’s back home. I’m quite envious.

The washing and cleaning is relentless. I can barely remember those dry summer months when we would walk straight back inside the house with dry paws and feet.

But I feel I’ve learnt more endurance from our gruelling outings through the sodden fields. I’m really going to appreciate the sunshine and dry weather when it arrives. 

I really hope it’s coming soon.

As published in the Bath Chronicle, 5 March 2026