Tracks in the mud ...

Jessie, over at Meanwhile, back at the Ranch has challenged us to send in stories about our favourite footwear.  Given that she lives on a wonderful ranch in Montana, it should come as no surprise to learn that she is particularly partial to Cowboy Boots.

Folks who send Jessie footwear stories, will have their name put in a bucket, or hat, or perhaps a boot and a name will be drawn to receive a free pair of shoes or boots !   How cool is that ?

The trouble is that I don't own any unique boots or shoes. 

What I do have is wonderful memories of what I have done wearing very ordinary shoes.

I have walked on bottom of the ocean.

Low tide in the Bay of Fundy presents some rather out-of-the-ordinary walking conditions.

There's something slightly exciting and edgy about walking in mud.

 Sometimes it feels as if each step might result in you walking in stocking feet, as the suction threatens yank the shoe right off your foot.  

(Actually that did happen once but I managed to hop back and get it back on. )

Or perhaps your next step might look like you are channeling one of the Three Stooges stepping on a banana peel as you slide, arms flailing, trying desperately not to end up on your butt.

Most mysterious of all, sometimes the firm sand turns out not to be so firm after all.

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But the most fun thing about walking on the ocean floor is that presents a great opportunity to have some fun with a good friend who also doesn't mind getting a tad grubby.  

A week of walks ...

Wendy and Trey and I have had a marvellous week of walks ...

A couple of our walks were at Hartlen Point.

Sometimes Trey gets tangled in his rope.  He doesn't seem to care.

We meandered along the scenic, grassy trail that follows the cliff-edge, at Hartlen Point,

occasionally stopping to enjoy the view.

Mostly, I threw the ball, and my chums brought it back to me...

again, and again, and again.

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Today was my favourite walk, as we went to the Bay of Fundy.  I love Fundy !

I love the sucky, sloppy sound of the dogs running through the mud.   

As always, Wendy waits in the distance for me to throw the ball to her.

Trey prefers to race flat out after the ball.

And when he finds that ball, he runs it back to me -- no matter how dirty it may be.

Exhibit "A".

Oh, you dirty dog !

Really the title of this post more accurately should say: "Oh, you foolish owner!".  

I mean, who takes their dogs to the Bay of Fundy at low tide, and not only allows the dogs to get muddy, but actually THROWS the ball into the mucky sand ?

I'm so easily amused.

And of course, so are the dogs.

Even the normally prissy Wendy got mucky.

They had a great time, and later we went to a lovely beach and they cleaned up in the ocean.

But phew: you should smell that car !