While my weekend was quite good, the pups had a great weekend.
On Friday, Himmelbjerget brought the heiland coo and the Polar-Dog to Bridge House Marina. Roxzilla and Retardo Montalban thought they'd quite fancy a walk, so they convinced us set off in the direction of Garstang and brave the wilds of the Lancaster Canal tow path.
The dogs ran and sniffed and snuffled and tried to steal everything they could think of - from cups of tea and sandwiches to moving worms in tackle boxes. Roxie and Tally strayed waaaaaaaay too close to the edge of the canal, but we discovered it was just a ruse to get into the narrow boats and see what they could steal from the people onboard, be it food or cuddles, I don't think they were bothered which!
They all got to trip over the aqueduct and taunt the golfers. They scared little kids and even aggravated two really sour people because (admittedly) they were taking up the entire width of the tow path. It took 20 seconds away from the lives of those people, but they were really bothered about it. The dogs weren't. They were busy and not paying a blind bit of attention. There were ducks, swans, other dogs, non-sour people and piles of horse poop to sniff. They seemed to say, "Time is too short to be bothered with people who didn't see the joy in it all" and off they went, never even noticing those silly, silly people.
After a short break in Garstang and a (relatively) quick walk back to the marina, Nino and Tally went home to watch Himmelbjerget eat some lunch (and possibly sneak a bit, as well). Milo and Roxie climbed on board our canal cruiser and headed out for a weekend of sailing. They ate snacks canal-side at the Water Witch in Lancaster, ate biscuits bay-side in Hest Bank and then acted like fools all along the coast (chasing other dogs, teasing a doberman pinscher who was afraid of small dogs, leaping in and out of puddles - turning Milo's coat green - and pretending to be springboks when the grass or sand dunes were too high). They had roast beef for breakfast, instead of the dry biscuits and holistic dog food they normally get, tried to eat their weight in schmackos and napped on the bed anytime they thought we weren't looking. They barked at everyone and everything on the tow path, cows and sheep in a few fields and some plastic-covererd hay bails (I never said they were smart).
By Sunday, ready for home and expecting rain, we turned the boat back towards Nateby and the marina. Back at the house, they jumped out of the car, had a quick lap of water, wee'd in the garden to ensure that the cat knew they were back and then sacked out on the carpet in the lounge, dead to the world, little legs and noses twitching.
Dear Diary, this weekend was the best weekend ever...