Seven Reservoirs

Starting from Bonaly, the dog and I ran the reservoir route through the snowy Pentlands. Only Threipmuir and Harlaw were frozen and three wild swimmers had broken the ice for a dip.
At the farthest point from the car the poor dog started to limp. Inspecting her paws I discovered two marble-sized chunks of ice attached to hair between pads. Immovable with force, I resorted to sucking and biting the ice away. I had no other choice. We then continued the rest of the run rechecking every mile or so. Fortunately no more limping or obvious damage.