Hocus pocus...

Well, I am almost recovered from the epic Schnauzerfest walk around West Wittering which I did on Sunday.  You know how I often talk about Reg and how he should be slapped with the canine version of an ASBO?  After Sunday, I reckon that transportation to the colonies would be too good for him.  

It started well.  The husband and I met up with Miss R, who had been cycling up and down the coast, desperately searching for the fish and chip shop where we were waiting for her.  I'll be honest with you, I was almost at the point where a scabby donkey would have looked attractive with chips, but she finally turned up.  As she'd been cycling, she was a tad concerned about what she looked like in her garb.  'Don't worry', I said, 'With your white jacket on, you look like you've just come off the golf course'.

Fish and chips were eaten on a rather shabby bench, situated between the Pound Shop and a rowdy looking Sports Bar, and it was then down to West Wittering beach, to meet up with all the other schnauzers and accompanying humans who were walking the walk for Schnauzerfest.  When we arrived in the car, there were about twenty of them milling around, and Miss R and I decided a trip to the loo might be a grand idea before we set off.

We took the dogs with us (the husband was having a nightmare with a piece of filming equipment, and was best left in peace) so one of us would have to wait outside with them while the other went in, and then we'd swap.  Walking into the toilet block, I noticed a lady with a non-schnauzer at the sink.  'I'm trying to get him to have a drink', she said.  Like that was the most normal thing you'd do.

Settling down for my comfort break, she suddenly shouted, 'Oh for goodness sake, Bernard.  Will you just bloody focus'.  I hoped that it was the dog she was talking to, and that there wasn't another couple further down in another cubicle up to no good, but leaving my cubicle, she was still trying to tempt Bernard to have a small drink to no avail.

When I came out, Miss R was in conversation with a rather attractive chap.  'So', he said.  'Have you just come off the golf course?'  Raising my eyes in a 'told you so' kind of way, we headed back to the car, where the husband had thrown the filming equipment onto the back seat in a fit of desperation.  The plan had been to attach it to Reg's harness so that we could film the walk.  Unfortunately, because it kept catching Reg's eye, he developed a nasty tic, and kept trying to eat it.  I actually think that if he'd been allowed to wear it, he would have sold it to the highest bidder.

The walk was great - an estimate of two hundred schnauzers was bandied around, and I think that Reg had a scrap with at least half of them.  I've never said the word 'sorry' so often and sincerely, but we finally made it to the end, with both dogs on their leads.  Percy, the fickle devil, had forgotten all about Ruby from the day before, and had attached himself to another poor old girl who was minding her own business.

But we raised a fortune for those poor dogs who are scooped up and made whole again.  

And that makes all my apologies worthwhile...