A Wee Donner

I’m just back from taking Sandy for “a wee Donner” up the road, (who knew we had kebabs in Scotland when slang was invented?) . An odd walk, about half way up Colquhoun he was spooked by something, stopped dead & refused to move forward, insisting on going back. “Come on Dad I’m spooked, don’t know what it is, some scent I caught on the breeze or from the ground, I really want to go home”.

I was surprised, lately he’d been getting to the top of the road and looked interested in exploring further but now a volte-face, “What’s up young fella?” He looked up at me with those big eyes of his & said quietly “I think it’s a big fox, please let’s go home”. So that’s what we did, turned around & headed home, his ears flat to his head, body low to the ground and stopping every few yards to look back.

When we got inside the storm doors he shook himself, gave me a friendly lick on the leg and said “Thanks Dad, I was a wee bit worried there, no need to let on to Mum tho’, OK?” So he was back to himself already, “Sure, let’s go in” Bouncing in to the TV room, tail wagging he headed for his favourite spot on the sofa, gave me a conspiratorial wink & fell asleep.