Rain has been falling most of the night, no longer a worry for me, and so I have slept.
That was until about an hour ago when Maggie became restless, and despite my efforts to comfort her in the hope that I was wrong, she wanted to go out.
It’s not quite 5am and obviously if there is a choice of going out in it or staying in bed, well, you can guess where I’d rather be.
But needs must, and as soon as I put my legs out of the covers, she was at the door, telling me in her furry way to get a move on.
Clad in waterproofs, the pair of us waddled up the pontoon. Luckily the rain had eased off and although it was wet underfoot, at least nothing was landing on my head.
Trying to follow the movements of a black dog in a black jacket in the dark isn’t easy at the best of times, but when four legs are definitely better than two, she was up the gantry and out of sight before I’d turned the corner below.
I had an idea where she’d gone though, so I stood and waited for my eyes to adjust, but couldn’t see her.
Desperate myself (running water has that effect on me sometimes!), I went to the loo.
Coming out, she was still nowhere to be seen, and I shone the torch down the dog walk seeing nothing but still shadows.
I had no choice but to leg it down there to find her.
She was more than half way down, crouched as bitches do when having a wee, her eyes yellow marbles in my torchlight, so our trip wasn’t wasted.
The rain held off for us, but there is more to come so I’m glad we went out now.
We have the churny tummy again, and I realise that apart from her share of rice last night, she ate very little yesterday. I will have to entice her with something extra in her bowl later today.
Outside, apart from the wet, it’s actually quite warm.
In recent evenings, we have noticed the small fish coming to the surface, and on a couple of occasions seen young pike lurking under the dying lily pads waiting for an unsuspecting victim to swim by. They remind me of the tiny grey plastic submarines we used to get free with our breakfast cereal many moons ago.
The marina is silent, save for the occasional reminder of Rooster Duck’s presence, and the water is dotted with little humps, lumps and bumps as our feathered friends float on the surface in sleep.
I could make out the Cleaning Crew in the half light, the white feathers on their chests like a bib you’d see on an old Laurel and Hardy movie, you know the cardboard bit that would continually flap up in the face.
The sky is featureless, covered in cloud, which is probably why it’s so warm.
The experts say we are in for high temperatures at the beginning of October. An Indian Summer. I reckon it’s a sign of a cold winter to come.
But we shall be ready.
pensitivity101 