I did wonder what was happening on Thursday. During the day I went out for a walk and it seemed to go on and on. Dad was working for the day so it wasn’t really until night-time that I began to think something was out of the ordinary. There were bags being packed and these included my food and beds. I was very suspicious ears.
On Friday I was rudely awoken far too early. By the time I returned from a stroll around my garden the car was on the drive ready to go. I was whisked into my crate and we were off. Where was I going? I had no idea, but we went whizzing along on the motorway.
After what seemed a lifetime in dog years, we arrived at a place called Eskdale. The boot was opened and the fresh smell of Cumbrian country air filled my nostrils. I was back in Beagle Harrier heaven. I remembered this from last year, when I was in Patterdale. We were staying in a cottage called The Coach House and it looked really nice. Inside it lived up to expectations, it was lovely and cosy. We unpacked our bags and I went out for an exploration with Dad.
I met a black Labrador dog named Oscar who greeted me as I wandered past his house. He said it was nice round here, and he wasn’t wrong. Even on my short stroll with dad, I was loving the sights and smells.
After a while we went to a pub for some beer & food. It should be noted that I didn’t get any beer or food but I did get some gravy bones from the nice barman. I was tired so just wanted to lay down on my settle mat but I kept on seeing other dogs. I aroooed them all, being the friendly Beagle Harrier that I am. This announced my presence in the pub, much to the amusement of quite a few people. Soon some visitors arrived that I knew. It was Raffa and her mum, auntie J. They had come to visit Eskdale too. This was of course great news as it allowed me to have a sensible conversation with Raff, and not listen to mum & dad wittering on about stuff. Eventually it was time to go back to our sleeping quarters, and we agreed to meet up the next day.
Let the fun begin.