The curtains were pulled back and it was raining heavily outside, adventures planned for the day suspended and replaced with hot chocolate and sofa cuddles. To begin with I immersed myself in a recommended book; after 3 chapters my mind was going nowhere, imagination flickered on and off and the book discarded. By lunchtime the oncoming Imbolc was a good reason to clear out the cupboards and air each room in turn. It was a cathartic process; every item that filled the recycling bin lifted my spirit a notch higher. Clean carpets and new bed clothes smelt good. Then came playtime, I rolled the small tennis ball across the room and the invitation was made. Ten full energy minutes flew past, my gut ached from all the laughing, my face ached from all the smiling, she lay on her back pleased as punch she had claimed victory, tail wagging, a good belly rub seemed a fitting reward.
The curtains were pulled back and it was eye wateringly beautiful. Sunshine shone brightly over the fields and roof tops. The lead and harness were fitted, the door swung open and a big deep breath of cool winter air was drawn. I stepped out into that sunshine and followed my feet; my mind switched to mute, my feet and her paws pounding the pavement for 4 miles. Past the inviting woodland, past the busy bypass, past the old cottages, along the cliff top path beside the clam sea, and down the winding back roads. My pace slowed subtly, my eyes lingered longingly over the old Victorian houses, dreaming of the day I would walk through one of those doors, feeling centred and warm calling it “home”. On we walked right back to the beginning, back through our own door, back into our own warm little bubble.