FIP my Welsh rugby ball!

It had to happen. Sam reneged on the deal. 

The beautiful Welsh rugby ball when it arrived at our house in March. Those eyes say it all
THIS IS MINE .... DO NOT TOUCH!

He let my Welsh rugby ball float off into the big blue yonder. 

FIP Welsh rugby ball ... I’ll miss you. 

(FIP = Float in peace)

It's heading off to Rangitoto

If I’d been able to persuade my hound to leap into the waves after it, in between all the chaos of Sam running backwards and forwards across the rocks and this other silly hound barking it’s head off .... we might have been able to save it. My hound was confused though .... Sam kept racing to the edge of the rocks in front of her. The other hound was barking for its stick to be thrown. It was a bit like our house USED to be when the kids were younger and heading off in 3 different directions to school. It was organised CHAOS.

When we look after Sam, we BROADEN his education .... we EXPLORE nudist beaches!!

Those days still come back to haunt me. The last few years of Gareth being at Junior School were the worst. 3 children going to 3 different schools, one of which happened to be a 45 minute drive away, would test the sanity of MOST people. 

They survived .... the kids that is .... and I didn’t kill anyone.

I digress though .... back to the hounds and my Welsh rugby ball crisis.

The Welsh rugby ball’s time was up. We nearly lost it yesterday on our ramble. The hound dropped it in the village as we were making our way up the hill. We didn’t register it wasn’t in her mouth anymore until we got to the top of the hill. Gav and her went back to look and she knew EXACTLY where she’d dropped it. Her pace quickened as they got closer and she gleefully grabbed the ball in her mouth and raced back up the hill to where I was waiting.

Sam, LEAPING into the waves!

It was a close call.

You wouldn’t know it was a Welsh rugby ball anymore. It’s well past it’s prime and all the kicking and throwing into the waves and river have removed any semblance of colour from it’s exterior. It’s been well-chewed too .... both ends no longer resemble leather of any kind. My hound prefers it like that though .... all the better to get a good grip on it!

CHOCOLATE BOX hounds!

 I guess I’m going to have to find myself another Welsh rugby ball.

In the meantime I’m sure Sam will be happy using the South African ball when we ramble together. I’ll just pump a little more air into it and he’ll be a happy “wannabee” rugby-playing chocolate hound.

Carol might not be so happy though. She's not so sure about Sam LOVING my Bokke ball.

Chelsea - we haven't seen her on the beach for a little while .... but that's because she's had 10 puppies!

Sam spent some time with us this weekend

I couldn't help but giggle ...

“The only thing people regret is not living BOLDLY enough ... not investing enough HEART

... not LOVING enough.” 

an excerpt from a letter Ted Hughes wrote to his 24 year old son Nicholas  about giving voice to the inner child.

We all have an “inner child” ... a free spirit that we sometimes forget exists. 

Rainbow over North Shore

My hound teaches me so much about giving voice to this free spirit. I can happily tramp through mud and water for hours on end, tolerate gale-force winds and stinging rain, get drenched to the skin from unexpected storms AND hound showers.... and still arrive home with a smile on my face.

Our rambles are fun, spontaneous, creative .... I get to connect to the real me and I get to connect with nature. I don’t know from one day to the next who I’ll meet, which hounds we’ll trade sniffs with or how many fixes of caffeine I’ll get to drink. It doesn’t really matter. All I know is that my days are NOT complete without this daily ritual .... without satisfying that inner part of me that NEEDS this commune with the world. My hound needs it too.

She IS what unconditional love is all about. 

She loves me for who I am, NOT who I could be or maybe should be. 

..... and she ALSO loves our rambles!

I think Tuesdays and Thursday are her favourite days. Not only does she get to swim in the waves and dig umpteen bucketloads of sand of the beach with Indy but she also get so chase balls with Sam at Waiatarua. It’s the best of both worlds and she knows it.

Sam and his reflection

Sam ALSO loves Tuesdays and Thursdays because he knows he gets to trade balls with my hound. For some reason, he quite fancies my hound’s WELSH ball .... not that you can tell it’s a Welsh ball anymore as it’s so well worn. Maybe it’s the smell he likes.

I’m not so sure that the ducks at Waiatarua like Tuesdays and Thursday as much as the hounds and I do. They tolerate my hound leaping into the river when we ramble there on a Friday with Indy. They’re not quite as tolerant of TWO hounds leaping into the river though .... especially when one of them is a “wannabee” chocolate hound with kangaroo blood.

Ruffled feathers

The ducks were on the side of the river the dogs normally swim in and, without thinking I kicked Sam’s ball into the river. His enormous leap and splash-down startled our feathered friends. They took to the air with mighty squawks and furious flapping as they fled over the bridge to the other side. They were not impressed and hot-footed .... or should that be paddled ..... hurriedly away down stream fluffing their feathers and glancing back indignantly at me.  

I couldn’t help but giggle ... they gave new meaning to the phrase “ruffle your feathers”!!

Looking back on this morning’s ramble I could so understand what Ted Hughes meant in his letter. We need mornings like this. We need to allow ourselves to be like the child we all once were. I want to live life to the fullest .... to participate in everything with heart and energy and joy just the way my hound does. 

I don't think I'll be leaping in any rivers any time soon though.

I can FLY!!

.... and WALK on water!!

.... and Chocolat can FLY too!