The dog is getting old, we are all getting old. Walking The Dog is a very very slow business.
But it is a beautiful sunny day and we are in tremendously good spirits Mum and I. It is a happy day and I am pleased to be in her company.
We have walked about 500 yards to the nearest grass verge when the dog stops to 'do her business 'as my Granny would have said. It does a massive pile. Mum brings out the inevitable 'poo bag' to scoop it up. She ties the top with a flourish and, holding tight to the looped handle, off we go again.
'How far is the bin?' I ask her, thinking that it would be nice to have a dog but that the 'pooper scooper' bit might be a bit much, especially as the children have been out of nappies for so long!
'Just around the corner' she says with a jolly smile, as the dog plonks itself down for another go.
'More?' I say in astonishment
'Oh yes' says Mum, almost proud, 'Sometimes I get through 3 of these!' She brandishes another bag and swoops upon the steaming pile.
She has the whole thing off to a fine art, and before we know it we are off again down the road.
'Sometimes' she says ' I think more comes out than goes in!'
'Yes' she says 'Feel the weight of that' and she hands me the two warm bags!
'I think I can live without that experience Mum' I decline
She really is something else sometimes, but you've got to love her!