Although I spent most of this weekend unpacking, I did escape for two hours to take Posetta Baddog for a constitutional on Hampstead Heath. We met up with E and super cheery baby C.
Posetta & baby C were resolutely unimpressed with each other upon first meeting, and frankly PB thought tennis balls and hunting for badgers under the Heath far more exciting.
It was so very, very cold and muddy (hence PB in her clever washable aviator jacket), but there is hope for spring imminently:
That dog is so manipulative. One minute she’s lying on the front seat, paralysed with exhaustion, staring at me as if to reproach me for wearing her out.
The next she’s out the door the moment I am parked up & sprinting down the street to try to break the door down into lil’sis’s flat, before hurling herself at lil’sis in a paroxysm of joy, turning herself upside down like an epileptic earwig.
You just know she’s telling lil’sis some story about how I beat and abused her.