Laddie Come Home

What I've been thinking about:

1. Dogs 
2. Holidays Wee calves (gettit?)

Ivie is fairly competitive when it comes to sporting endeavours. He'd rather score that try at touch rugby and not be able to walk the next day than shrug and save his joints. I'm pretty much the opposite in that I've never risked myself physically for anything (unless elbowing my way to the front at Bombskare gigs counts). 

Brain stretching is more my cup of tea. I get a certain sense of satisfaction from a busy day at work writing reports, planning events and managing projects. Or a good quiz. 

On Saturday night, Ivie and I went to a quiz at Rhonehouse Village Hall with some friends (I know, Ivie left the Shire. He will repent). Our strengths included fictional Scots and airport codes but we were let down by our lack of knowledge about Doctor Who's assistants and Beatles album covers. Our best fluke was guessing the price of a first class stamp (£1.35). 

Photo by Anstey

There was a whole round about dogs, including a question about Lassie's exact breed. Luckily one of our team mates knew the answer (rough collie) and the overall result was we were second. This is where my lack of competitiveness is shown to be a massive sham but I'd drunk too much wine to be disappointed for long. 

Fast forward to today and Ivie was in need of a rough collie. Sometimes wee calves go on wee adventures, you see, and become separated from their mums. Ivie and his brother spent the morning looking for a little Angus calf in amongst whin bushes, which meant Ivie was tired and grumpy by lunchtime and not particularly interested in a dog walk. 

Who's a good dog? 

Guess what the dog found five minutes into the walk? 

Ivie wasn't quite as happy as you might expect that Rudi had saved him from an afternoon of tramping through gorse. Maybe he was just crabbit that he'd missed out on lifting another first prize this week.