Ah, yes. The diversion of life in the country. Fresh air, clear skies, birds chirping, and those sort of things. And too, there's work to be done... planting fruit trees & shrubs & floweres to take advantage of the spring-like weather. But, no such luck with The Dog in attendance...
This is The Dog, who BAR-RUFFED to be let inside, when it got too cold outside. The wind had kicked up & clouds had appeared. Some disgruntled dog-stuff about not having the pleasure of sun-bathing on a sun-warmed semi-grassy spot, while I built up a sweat digging into rocky soil.
This is also The Dog, who BAR-RUFFED to be let back outside, when he discovered I did not remain inside with him, where it was w-a-r-m. Some sort of dog-trash about The Hallowed Man/Dog Solidarity, I suppose.
And, this is The Dog, who found it necessary to BAR-RUFF again to have my company for a foray beyond the perimeter walls of the garden, probably, fearing an unpleasant encounter with that nasty black dog, who insists on wee-wee-ing where The Dog has just wee-wee-ed. Apparently, The Dog is very protective of his s-p-o-t-s.
How could I get my gardening in with these sorts of canine interruptions?
So, the next day, I left The Dog in town, so the maid could deal with his inconsistencies. Gads.