So, at the end of a walk along the shore of Loch Torridon we are fast approaching our cottage and what do I hear?
“OK Bertie, time for you to jump in the jacuzzi. Won’t that be fun?”
There is so much so wrong with this statement it is hard to know where to begin.
1. That is not a jacuzzi, nor any other sort of a hot tub. It is a Scottish mountain stream in full spate. June temperature circa 8ºC.
2. Anyway, it is never, ever the right time for a hydrophobic fox terrier to jump into any sort of water.
3. If it is really such fun to go splashing about in an icy torrent, then why does Gail not step in and join me?
I wouldn’t mind so much if she just told it like it is:
“OK Bertie, your paws and undercarriage are muddy, as is inevitable at the end of a walk in these parts, because I was mad enough to buy a cottage in a notoriously sodden region of the UK, so I am going to rinse you off in this conveniently situated stream, no matter how cold the water is and how much you object, because I am a lazy, uncaring and selfish human who does not want you traipsing round my precious cottage shedding bits of Highland peat bog here, there and everywhere…”