Mucky Dogs And Dubs

Earlier on today while taking my son's little tyrannosaurus rex  doggie a lengthy walk down the cricket pitch path, a van wooshed past, ripping through a muddy puddle and soaking us both in the process.

During my somewhat loud profanities, the van came to an abrupt halt with its hazard lights on around 50 yards ahead.
   A man of around forty came running towards me with a blanket draped over his arm.   Handing it to me to rub off the worst of the puddle stains, he couldn't have been any more apologetic.   A bush had been obscuring his vision on the slight curve, and assuming the road clear, sped on.

I accepted his apology, cleaned myself (and Hetfield the mutt) as best as, declined the offer of a run home (as I knew the dog wouldn't settle in the van) and felt a bit fortunate in the fact that most vehicles would simply have driven on regardless.  But, ahh................

It may be late, thirty-odd years late, but I hang my head in (a modicum of) shame, recalling the times my first boyfriend

and I went in his car, seeking out victims (not old dears or children) after heavy rainfall or melted snow and finding it hilarious.  I think we know which way I'll be heading if there's an afterlife..................

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