Doggone!

I went to the woods to cut a new washing line pole and after scrambling and slithering down through the bluebells and ramsons I reached the river. I mooched around for a bit and when I turned back the dog was nowhere to be seen. I retraced my route shouting Casey! Casey! at the top of my voice all the way - no sign, no sound, no dog. Had he got stuck in a burrow? He doesn't do burrows. Had he got caught on a snag? No yelping. Had he wandered off and become disorientated? No way of knowing.

Worried, I returned home. Dog found. He was in his basket under the kitchen table. I chided him. He looked at me with a hangdog expression. I cold shouldered him.

This was later after cordial relations had been restored and he was looking forward to spending the night on the young master's bed.