Talos here, reporting on the walk as it happened today, 1 September 2015.
Much like any other day, we were harnessed and ran to the gate barking and chasing. Leashed up we took the Guinea fowl route, Kira's favourite. We barked at He-who-stares, and we sniffed the pee-mail tree on the corner. Kira tried to mark it 'read', there was a minor miscommunication and I got marked read instead. Oh well, nothing a nice roll in the grass won't fix!
Some person with no respect for my majestic fawnness did not stop at the corner to watch us pass. We crossed after they had left. Such indignation. Still, quite forgivable, given the wonderful aroma that awaited us on the other side.
Nina said something that sounded like 'fertiliser'. She's wrong... it's poop! Glorious, glorious poop! Kira wasted no time and rolled to her hearts' delight. I can tell you the flavour was most excellent. Just the right age, about a week old, with a distinctly grass-fed bovine air to it. Soft, crumbly and nicely moistened by the kind hearted people who placed it on the grass for us to enjoy.
I guess it's due to the distracting nature of finding such a prize that neither Kira nor I noticed how Nina had completely changed colour. Her normal pinkish brown was replaced by a yellowy green. How odd! I wonder if this is normal, but I suspect the only way to tell is with more observation. I wonder if it's because she completely refused to join us?
After we had had our fill of merde de vache we rounded the corner to spot the flock of Guinea fowl strutting about right in the road. Two cocks and many hens, and even more chicks! Of course, Nina waits for us to look at her and sit before we all run after them, but that's no problem at all! Even Kira gets this right... took her long enough to learn it though.
You know the best thing about those spotted birds? They leave bits of feathers all over the place. I picked up a nice big one to carry home.
... That might have been a mistake, though. You see, my lovely trophy attracted He-who-fetches, a labrador out on an evening stroll much like us. He-who-fetches took my feather, he was friendly but firm in this matter. That's still tolerable, I am a generous Queen. The trouble is in taking my feather, he sniffed my head, which as we all know clearly marks me 'read'. Like any good pee-mail user, he felt obligated to indicate that he had also read the message. But he is no Kira, his font is enormous, bold, underline and in 72p.
So, friends, this concludes my report on todays walk, that was otherwise uneventful.
Signing off from the bath, where I'm now on my second round of shampoo,
Talos
ps. Kira was bathed first. Something about building up the emotional fortitude to deal with a sopping wet pug? Humans can be quite strange.
