Took my sister’s puppy Rue for a gallop across the fields in the snow today. This is Rue’s first Christmas. And she loves snow. It was twilight and she is pitch black, so I attached a big red bike-light to her collar so as not to lose her. She hit every stream, chased the geese, dashed across the snowy fields and no amount of cheese could bring her back. But at the last gate before the lane to my sister’s house, she knew her time was up and I got her on the leash. Rue doesn’t do walking. She is so excited by life, she lunges forward tearing along the road with me galumphing along behind, jogging in Wellington boots.
One of the Christmas highlights this year, on a par with going to the Carol service at the 15th century King’s College chapel in Cambridge, England, and hearing all the angelic little school boys sing, was Rue’s race to beat Santa coming down the chimney. My brother-in-law Ave usually leaves a glass of brandy and a mince pie on the hearth ‘for santa’ on Christmas Eve. No sooner had he placed the victuals and gone to bed, than I opened the living room door to get a blanket and Rue dived in like a baseball pro heading for home base and gobbled the mince pie in one gulp (neatly leaving behind it’s foil case). Over the holidays she has also swallowed several of the Christmas tree decorations, a paper crown from Christmas lunch and a stripy sock. Hope you enjoy the photo of Rue in her Xmas jumper (that’s sweater if you are an American). She hasn’t chewed it to bits yet.