Ghost Dog…

Today I went for one of my habitual walks on the beach.  These walks are usually a solitary pursuit – time to myself to think and not think. Wind, waves and the yearning cries of the gulls and guillemots. On my part of the coast,the forbidding British Winter has granted us a sunny reprieve – it’s been clear and crisp – blue sky, and so icy that the seafoam has frozen and the chalk cliffs sparkle with frost. Beautiful, but only crazy people and dog owners are out on the beach. And me…

I must confess I have always been a cat person. However, since dogsledding in Finland I have returned home as a husky whisperer (yes, I know what you are thinking, but no…I don’t have a premium phone line. If I did I’d be stinking rich and living in Hawaii!) It’s just that somehow I’ve acquired an affinity with dogs. I don’t know how. Or why. Perhaps they have an affinity with me… probably more like it, because judging by my personal life its the mutts and the strays who think they have a chance…

Anyway. I’ve noticed something really odd on my walks along the beach.  Dog owners, who are of course a breed unto themselves, keep chatting to me.  Now in and of itself, that would not be weird (It’s England after all and everyone talks to you)…but they all stop and ask where my dog is…like I have a dog! Car keys? Check!… Ipod? Check!… Attitude? Check?… Canine…erm, no!

When they ask me, my defense is to say that I am walking my dog of special breed – the ‘invisible’ dog. Of course this is patently an excuse, as it’s perfectly clear I’m walking myself, but it seems to keep the dog owners happy. And their dogs don’t  mind either.  I’m even contemplating carrying a tennis ball  and a leash – just to look the part!

Still, I can’t help wondering if they see a ghost dog. An invisible mutt.  Now I just need to work on the invisible man. Ha! That leash may come in handy after all.

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