October with Lola has become a month of timed walks rather than destination focused. When we had two dogs we failed to notice the full impact of her as an avid tracker. Hugo was a fláneur.
He took a dim view of her need to track everything and hurried her along to places he could pose languidly and be dogged in different ways.
Our first autumn without him, has seen walks taking a very different shape. Given the chance she would concentrate on a small area for ten to twenty minutes. Without him she is less trustworthy off the lead and can go missing whilst on Squirrel hunts. She is also uniquely camouflaged in our local area,so no chance of finding her without her foppish white brother by her side.
Two walks yesterday absolutely highlighted October walks with Lola. One near home where she sniffed for a prolonged period. I observed possibly the most useless piece of local knowledge ever.
At some point, many years ago these yellow, parking restiction, lines were painted in the autumn.
The things I ponder whilst standing still.
I promise you the next one is a little more interesting.
I worked in Tavistock off and on as part of a medical screening team for 12 years. A great place to work in a bustling market town. I used the footpath, through the graveyard of St Eustachius Church, in the town centre often. I never stood still. Lunch hours when you are a full-time working mother are a whirlwind of chores and missions.
Delightfully in keeping with the general flavour of the end of October I stood still, thanks to Lola’s sniffing. Fortuitously by the very old grave of an eponymously named dead person Mr John Body who rather sadly died at the age of 35.
Lola’s prolonged sniffing made me look beyond the slightly comedic notion of a dead person called Body and read his inscription. Mr Body was not a chap for levity, especially in death. 1749.
Nothing I do can improve the readability.
My Debt is Paid, my Grave you see, prepare yourself to follow me.
There We Are Then.
John Body of Tavistock, truly a man for the end of October.
