Mountains to climb for both of us

Since my partner Graham died unexpectedly in February, life has felt like an enormous mountain I have no choice but to scale.

Aside from the massive void he has left behind, everything seems so much harder when what you thought would be your future, suddenly is not. 

People tell me that it will get better with time. I really hope it will, but it hasn’t yet.

Flossie found her own mountain on a recent walk. Her mountain was quite different to mine though. Hers was made of manure – warm, stinking, ripe manure.

The manure mountain appeared one day in a field we regularly pass through. It was so colossal that I was puzzled that Flossie didn’t appear to notice it at first.

However, as we drew closer and the stench wafted our way, she charged towards it with a level of enthusiasm I only exhibit when I find giant chocolate buttons on special offer. I will never understand why dogs (or at least the ones I own) are drawn to all varieties of excrement, but they are, and usually with sparse discrimination.

Flossie’s delight in her smelly discovery was evident as she scampered around, snatching clumps of manure between her teeth and burying her nose deep into the steaming pile. 

I called her rather half-heartedly. I already knew from experience that it would be hopeless. No treat in the world could compete with a mammoth mound of poo, surely? Certainly, my previous dog, Dotty, would have been fully submerged in a full body roll by now, ensuring maximum coverage of the stinky stuff.

But Flossie surprised me. After a few chomps of the precious delicacy, she trotted towards me without giving it a backward glance, and we continued on our way. She did not wish to climb her poo-encrusted mountain that day. 

And sometimes, in fact, often, I can’t face climbing my mountain either. That’s when walking with Flossie in the beautiful Bath countryside is the best distraction therapy I could wish for.