New Year's morning .We're out early. The grass soft underfoot after yesterdays rain . Small puddles glinting silver in the first light. After a day spent cooped up indoors Wilf skips along. Joy unleashed. No one watching us would believe he was blind, or old, or frail. We turn off the lane and head down the path that leads to the stream . Sometimes I lead . Sometimes follow.Where the hill and meadow meet a large hare stops , mid-step, to stare at us. Seeing Wilf he rushes off. Tall ears disappearing over the brow of the hill. Ungainly grace. The family fellow lifts his head briefly then carries on nose down through the grass. What he fails to see, I do. The shared world of dog and owner.
Wilf, ever uncomplaining , greets each morning with the enthusiasm humans reserve for the New Year . PON wisdom - '' Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be ". To prove his point there's a bacon baguette waiting when he gets home .
