(Well best hour ever, at least)
We’ve just come back from spending a few days on the lovely Isle of Mull where Husband’s parents live. Mull has lots of things going for it as a destination: amazing wildlife, beautiful scenery, mountains and, most importantly, some incredible beaches. One beach we go to is very popular in the summer with visitors, but we prefer to go there in winter when we get the wide open space to ourselves. And, boy, is it ever a wide open space:
The downside of the beach is the long length of winding, bouncing single track road to get there (actually that’s most of the roads on Mull, not just this one). Luckily Willow seems to be overcoming the car-sickness she suffered from when we first got her.
We parked up and took Willow on her lead across the swathe of machair down to the beach. As soon as we let her off her lead she ran – big looping circles around us. She ran, and ran, and ran, stopping long enough to roll in the sand and then off again. There was a real joyfulness to her running.
I took her down to the sea to see what she would make of it. The sea was quite calm with very small waves breaking in it. Willow had a little paddle, tried drinking it and I swear she made a face when she discovered it was salt water. After another run around I took her back to the sea and this time she plunged straight in and started paddling, which I really didn’t expect as she’s always shown a tendency to avoid getting her feet wet. When I called her out I think she realised how cold the water had been because she was doing the normal dog-shake manoeuvre but was combining it with a sort of shivery dance. This obviously called for some more running to warm up again.
Willow spent a good hour, running on the beach, investigating a few other dogs who had bought their owners out for a walk, but always coming back when called, which was great reinforcement of that particular command.
I have to say, when we got back from the beach, there was a definite contentedness to her.