I can’t remember the last time I went on a picnic.
Once upon a time, when we travelled up and down to our Spanish finca, we would stop at the service station for a walk and a drink and a picnic.
Sometimes Misery would buy the food inside the service station, and when she was feeling tight she would make sandwiches and take them with us. Not in summer though because warm sandwiches are pretty grotty after an hour and a half in the truck. And we always had a bag of my favourite chips/crisps.
Now Misery is a bit picky about what we are all allowed to eat, but she does relax a little and thinks these fine chips are excellent as they are junk free.
So at the weekend, after we had sat in the queue to cross the border for an hour and a half, [a boring Misery post about being stuck in the queue explains more for anyone who wants to read boring Misery posts] we all decided it would be good to have a break and stop for a picnic.
I should say that we stopped doing that a couple of years ago after a nasty person/s stole their money and ID out of the front of my Landy when we were all in the back together.
But three hours on the road (because of the queue yes?, normally we would be home by then) deserves a stop and some food and drink. Off Misery went to buy a fine tortilla sandwich – did I get any of that?
A bag of crisps, and a can of coke. Now, I would have liked some sandwich but there is no way people are eating a HUGE bag of crisps in front of me and not feeding me.
We all sat together next to my Landy. They sat on the kerb and I stood/lay slightly in the shade. It was wonderful. I wonder if we will do it again. Although Misery thought the chips were rather dear.
Now, in other news, I have been demolishing a pack of Blueberry treats from the bestest girlfriend (fiancée?) ever – dear Skye. They are wonderful, and they smell so fruity.
And Master thinks I should make an important news alert. Here in the northern hemisphere it is tick season time.
Master and I went for a morning walk in Spain and noticed the goats and sheep had been down the street. I’m sure you can work out how we noticed. Master checked my feeties but couldn’t find any ticks.
When we got back to Gibflat, Misery noticed I had acquired a new black spot on my nose. She wiped it off. No she didn’t, it wouldn’t come off. She sighed. She considered screaming and calling sleeping Master which is what she normally does.
But then she remembered reading something on some pup’s blog (can’t remember who, will add later if remember) about using washing-up liquid. So she carefully squirted some onto kitchen towel and soaked the nasty thing, and eased it out.
Flushed with success, she decided to check for more. That was stupid wasn’t it? She was bound to find one. She looked in my ears, and there was another horrid bicho. More kitchen towel and more washing-up liquid. I am a very clean dog now. I am all washed up.
Then, when Master woke up and she proudly told him of her accomplishments, they sadly agreed on drops. I don’t like drops, they don’t like drops, but none of us like tick fever.
So pups and people, always, always remember to keep checking for those horrid ticks. I was lucky, I survived over a year ago now. But not every dog, or every person is so lucky.
Be alert for bichos.