Number One Son ready to go somewhere. Anywhere. The trip in the car to a sandy beach or a garbage tip. Equally exciting with untold smells. He's always been a good passenger and whilst a whining Neil Young on the radio might put some of us off, not him. He's come from a life of cafe culture and prestigious puppy schools to a farm yard with strange birds and woolly dogs that won't obey commands. He must wonder how he went from a regular appointment at the local groomers having him blow dried and smelling of scent to now sporting a solid layer of dried up chook pooh and smelling of something dead. The pooch pamperer has been replaced with a bucket of warm water and a rinse under the hose followed by a quick dash to get in front of a roaring wood heater. Those city dogs have it too easy. Now where did I see that dead thing.
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