New fluffy friends Boris and Heidi

It's been a while since Gail took me to Balmedie Country Park, so I was delighted when she suggested we go there for a Saturday afternoon walk.

We weren't far from the car park when I spotted this very fluffy lady.

I was just about to get up close and personal when we were interrupted by her male companion and I remembered that discretion is the better part of valour.

Gail had a nice chat with their owner and learned that Heidi and Boris are show dogs (they've even been to Crufts), that Heidi comes from Switzerland, and that yes, preparing an Old English Sheepdog for showing is a time consuming business (who knew?)

We parted ways when we reached the sand dunes, but a few minutes later my new friends appeared again in the distance.

Boris came barrelling over, but was called back before we had a chance to make further acquaintance.

Heading towards the beach, I traversed the remains of a fence, apparently built to secure the perimeter of the Trump International Golf Course.

Gosh, and I thought this Trump chap was supposed to be something of an expert in wall building. Looks like he needs more practice. Or maybe not...

Meanwhile, Gail and I are wondering if my new pal, Old English Sheepdog Boris, will soon be seeking a name change...

Heidi or Ursli?

With regret, I am coming to the conclusion that our imminent trip to Switzerland is making Gail go a bit funny in the head. Over-excitement can do that to a grown woman, I believe.

Apparently, at six and a half years old, I am now exactly the same age as Gail was when she first went to stay with her godmother Doris in Luzern.

On that rather flimsy pretext, Gail decided last night to read to me from the books Doris gave her on that first Swiss holiday.

You have to humour them sometimes, don't you? 

We started with 'Heidi'.

Well, this Heidi, also six years old, is a cute little Swiss girl, and she prefers mountains to towns, which I guess is something in her favour. But really. Heidi?! It's a girl's book, isn't it? What else do you have there Gail? 

So Gail sighs, mutters something about insidious gender stereotyping even influencing dogs' taste in classic children's literature, and reaches for 'A Bell for Ursli'.

Now that's more like it!

This Ursli fellow has some excellent adventures, of the sort I am hoping for in October. Maybe I shall get a chance to cross a perilous bridge?

Or run up and down a snowy mountain and dive through the window of an Alpine chalet?

Well I am beginning to understand why Gail is getting so excited.

Is it really still three weeks before we leave?