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Mud, mud, glorious mud ... Madai's February blog

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Morning campers, its me, Madai, fresh from the hosepipe! Did I tell you I had special black fur? I think I did and it is just the dogs' claws these muddy mornings. First up, you can't really see if I need a wash after I've been out for a field patrol and second its really thick so I can jump in the river or canal even in mid-winter! Anyone wan't to copy me please form an orderly queue. Unfortunately himself has a hosepipe fixation and needs to use it daily on guess who. I've put in this picture of my cousin Tess to show the disadvantage of pale fur — Tess's mum said if photographs could be scented this picture would have a certain agricultural quality to it.

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I expect you all know the song in this month's blog title, but in case any of you have been hiding under your hat here is the link to Flanders and Swann singing it live in 1959. My person isn't quite as wedded to F&S as to Tom Lehrer (see my December blog) but he can sing (that's what he calls it) along to most of the tunes. Fortunately he usually only puts it on when there's just the two of us in the car and the sound doesn't carry well to my quarters.

 

Continuing the mud theme we (him and I) went on a gentlemens' walk the other day — of course I use the word gentlemens advisedly as the language I heard when we arrived made me blush — and it was more of a splodge than a walk. Himself was the youngest, which doesn't say much for the rest who should have known better than to set off in walking boots, rather than our dog walking kit of wellingtons with a change of trousers for after. Well as we strode on (philosophical question — can a dog stride with 4 legs?) the rest of the "Gents" ended up mincing around in their walking boots like a troupe of retired artistes: when we went into the Dysart Arms for lunch they sat us in the furthest corner away from any other diners — I say "we went in" but for some reason I got left in charge of the motor. Then a few days later I took himself and herself on another muddy walk to The Sweatymans's Arms, or something like that, with Roger the Dodger (who used to live at Number 2) together with "Roger's" herself who kept "my" herself supplied with gossip or vice versa. I left a great big puddle on the wooden block floor of the pub: muddy water, what did you think I meant! I like going in the Badger best of all as the room they keep specially for dogs has a nice fire in it, and table legs that you can weave your person's lead round to stop them wandering off. Heat and damp dog makes a particularly alluring aroma don't you think? Also after being there himself often forgets that the hosepipe needs its daily outing .....

I was going to tell you more about Charlie's dad, the "Magis-bent" (June blog) who got a summons recently but that will have to wait for another time.

So, special prize to the first person to spot this month's pun: answers as usual to madaithelabrador@gmail.com

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Madai — your rovering reporter