Lost* the ball in the park, didn’t I, so a big search was instituted which involved me rustling in the undergrowth, diving into bushes and leaping around a wildflower meadow which is going to seed. Ended up with hundreds of sticky burrs and seeds in my coat. Yuk.
Didn’t manage to find the ball, or the Chuck It one I lost in the same place last week.
I had a good brush when we got home but there a still loads to come out. At least my ears are clear.
- As we were leaving, having searched everywhere, another walker shouted she’d found it. In a patch of long grass. How did I miss that when my breed is renowned for its prowess in this field? Field, field – who said field?