A rumble overhead

A change in the weather had been predicted and, as 30% headed out to work at lunchtime, large drops started to fall from a leaden sky.  Within minutes it was absolutely hammering down with rain and a colossal thunderclap sounded overhead.

Unfortunately I was working at my desk and missed the theatrics of the storm.  Instead I had to suffer an hour long call with a half witted project manager who seems to think that I will support his project but not charge my time to his budget.  I requested the budgetary codes on his call, but I was surprised to find that he had forgotten to record that in his minutes.  Ah well, it was a simple matter to "reply all" commenting that he seemed to have forgotten to record my request for the relevant codes. *

The working days went reasonably well and I was able to head out for a walk with Whiffler and Dog#3 at about four in the afternoon.  

Remembering the lunchtime storm, I collected a precautionary hat and jacket before heading out in to the lanes.  It soon became apparent that this wet weather apparel was redundant.  The weather was hot, sunny and humid and the coat was soon tied around my waist.  Although the rumble of thunder was ever present, the storms stayed away and the walk was a dry one.

During the walk Dog#3 performed her usual antics and it is one of these that I'll recount today.  When the poodles are young they delight in play and will constantly practice their instinctive hunting behaviours in preparation for running down imaginary Bison, Elk or Deer with the rest of the pack.

When Whiffler was a pup he was an absolute nightmare for hassling Marauder in this way.  As soon as she broke in to a trot or a run, he charged alongside her attempting to bite her legs and trip her up.  He's now approaching his sixth birthday and, as a mature dog, that behaviour is long behind him.  

However, Dog#3 is barely eighteen months old and what goes around comes around. Now it is her turn to hassle Whiffler.  It needs to be mentioned that Whiffler is a big boy.  The youngster is barely half his weight and much shorter in the leg and body.  This does put her at a disadvantage when Whiffler is running, but she is also quite smart ...

There are a couple of fields on the walk where Whiffler squeezes under the metal gates to take a quick nose among the stalks of the growing barley.  #3 doesn't follow, but waits at the gate.  She knows that Whiffler needs to creep under the gate to rejoin us and, at that point, is unable to defend himself from her practice attacks.

It is quite comical to see the stand-off with a dog on either side of the gate.  Whiffler waits for #3 to follow me up the road, so he can get under the gate without being attacked and #3 waits for Whiffler to duck under the gate, so she can pounce.

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*  I'm sure this was an oversight. **

**  Like fuck was it an oversight!  The little shit wants me to work for free.