So here I am on the beach at Nairn (our favourite stop-off en route to Torridon), enjoying a break in the wintery weather, checking out some driftwood and minding my own business, when along come two Scotties and their owner.
Has it ever struck you that the conversations your human engages in with other dog owners are not of the highest intellectual calibre?
It seems a bit rich to be criticised as uncouth for sniffing each other's rear ends by way of introduction by a species that rarely ventures beyond "Oooh, SO cute. Boy or girl? What's his name? How old is he? Weather's not so bad today is it?"
(This final question is purely rhetorical. Unless it is freezing cold AND rain is bucketing down AND a gale is blowing AND visibility is at the 'can't see beyond the tip of your nose' range, the typical Scottish dogwalker will classify conditions as "nae bad".)
For the record, these Scottie guys are called Archie and Phoebe and they are, respectively, five and seven years old. It is agreed that we are all three exceptionally handsome terriers and that the weather is indeed "nae bad".
Later at the Torridon cottage I am pleased to see that Gail had packed some suitably brain stimulating reading material for the weekend, and live in hope of hearing her discussing the relevance of quantum decoherence to the Schrödinger's cat thought experiment, or the role of non-locality in avoiding violations of Special Relativity, with the next dog owner we run into....
Beats Brexit anyway.