I live toward the lower right side of the harbour down where you see the tiny island (Devil's Island). Lynne lives to the middle left, and about a quarter inch off the map.
We planned on getting together yesterday. If it rained, Lynne would drive to my place for a rowsing game of Carcassonne, if it was nice, then I'd go to hers. It was very nice indeed so I tootled over to her place: and boy am I glad I did !
Balls were thrown, found and duly returned by giddy, happy dogs.
Trees were admired and flowers were sniffed, by humans and dogs alike.
At some point, Trey lost interest in the ball. He'd found something better. He'd found a rotting old canvas, metal-framed backpack.
For some reason --- that baffled Trey -- we refused to throw the heavy, nasty thing. So he carried it down the road and kept plopping it at our feet, in the vain hope that we'd change our minds and start throwing it.
Meanwhile Wendy kept fetching the ball, regardless of where it went.
Over time, Trey ripped the backpack to shreds. Then he found a large skidoo mitten which became tangled on a tree branch, and tugged at that, until the mitten tore free.
When that the pieces of the mitten became too small to enjoy, he found something else ...
It was a marvellous outing and I can't wait to go walking there again with Lynne.
