I dragged the Mrs out for a trot across Dartmoor yesterday ~ OK, she was dresses and waiting for me when I got back from dropping our son [and less hair] at his rowing club ~ and all was well. The 3 of us in the car, wife, dog and me and we grabbed the last parking space.
It was a cracking run with the moor looking resplendent in her late winter guise, and distant views of the sea. The recent rains had made the track look more like we were running in a small stream, but Izzie loved it. Typical dog finding every peat-laden puddle and rivulet to splash through.
WE reached the agreed turning point with miles and miles of moor calling to us to run further' but alas we had to go back.
On the return run, with equally magnificent views unfolding before us, Izzie spied a group of 5 Springer Spaniels coming along with two older, err, Gentlemen. I use th word loosely as they didn't turn a hair when their effing dogs attacked Izzie, biting her on the shoulders, face and neck. 'Dogs will be dogs,' is all they said and I wrestled Izzie away from the hound.
It just so happens that we knew which was their car as they parked just before us. The Police have been informed, and they will be investigating the matter.
Izzie is generally OK, I am incredibly relieved to say ~ but what if it were a child or lamb next time?