bikes and dogsI grew up beside a wide river, with lots of estuary mud. One winter's day, when I was about 14, my dog Speck (ok, she was my dog, but I didn't name her, ok?) appeared from the river, covered in thick black foul-smalling crud. The tide was rising fast, but she had been wandering about in the shallows. Which was a bit strange, as she wasn't much of a water dog.
1/2 an hour later, there was enough water to give her a good wash, so I led her out to the riverbank, and threw her in. She came out clean, pissed off, and very cold.
I jumped on my bike, and got her to run up the lane beside me to get her warmed up. Of course, about 300 yards later, she ran straight across me, right under the front wheel, and gave a horrible yelp.
I went over the handlebars, and planted my face into the mud and gravel. Speck fucked off home like her arse was on fire, and I was left in a bloody tangle of limps and bicycle. After that, she never, ever, came near me when I got my bike out.
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Wed 15 Oct 2003, 16:19,
archived)
1/2 an hour later, there was enough water to give her a good wash, so I led her out to the riverbank, and threw her in. She came out clean, pissed off, and very cold.
I jumped on my bike, and got her to run up the lane beside me to get her warmed up. Of course, about 300 yards later, she ran straight across me, right under the front wheel, and gave a horrible yelp.
I went over the handlebars, and planted my face into the mud and gravel. Speck fucked off home like her arse was on fire, and I was left in a bloody tangle of limps and bicycle. After that, she never, ever, came near me when I got my bike out.