It’s a gorgeous day today: blue sky and just a hint of warm breeze. B and I enjoyed our walk this morning down the lane (slightly haunted by forty pairs of large, brown eyes watching our every move). I have to say, though, that the cows must be reasonably intelligent - they’ve realised that I carry no food and am therefore absolutely surplus to their requirements, so they’ve ceased following me down the lane and back again, and settled for just watching my every move. This started me off wondering how much they really understand (well, I was wondering, B was pretending to listen whilst really looking for rabbits). I mean, do they think ‘oh, here comes the lady with the dog that looks like a twiglet…no point giving her any hassle, she’s useless’, but then I counter-thought well, if they have that much thinking capacity, then surely they’d get awfully bored standing around in a field all day, and amuse themselves by ..ooh, I don’t know … a bit of country dancing, or a nice game of tag.

So, this being a ramble in more ways than one, my thoughts led neatly on to wondering how much B can understand, and if she’s as intelligent as she seems, then maybe she gets bored, too. In which case, should I maybe think about getting her a little companion to while away the time and have a little dog-conversation with. Again, though, I wondered how she could be so clever in her little escapology attempts, then so massively stupid in other ways. Today, for instance, while I was washing up, she was lying in front of the sink in her normal position, flat out on the floor. I opened the cupboard under the sink, then forgot to close it for some reason and next thing I knew, there was the most unholy row coming from the kitchen. The total arse had tried to get up, got herself totally wedged underneath the cupboard door, and was struggling and yelping like a total baby. I came in, pushed her flat again, shut the cupboard door and then helped her up. By this time she was shaking and whining in that absolutely pathetic pansy way that seems exclusively greyhound, and it took her ten minutes of cuddles (with her nose stuck into my armpit) to recover. I think her brain (if I could draw a pie chart, which I can’t) would be 30 percent rabbits and the pursuit of same; 30 percent food and the pursuit of it; 30 percent sleep and 9 percent having her ears tickled. This leaves just 1 percent for any form of intelligent thought. I rest my case.

Anyhoo, my Mum sent me this email about Irish lonely hearts ads - you know the sort of thing: ‘lonely Dubliner seeks 21 year old double-jointed blonde with open-minded identical twin’ and I thought I might post one for B: ’single fawn female (geddit?), slim, 28 (in dog years), VGL, GSOH, N/S but with limited mental capacity and large appetite WLTM companion to share a slower pace of life. Must be well-bred. Own blankie and teddy essential. Toy breeds need not apply’. I’ll run it by her when she wakes up for her dinner.

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