Unsettled

I have to confess, I really don’t know how Hound survived the weekend.

We went up to Marple (just outside Manchester) and had rented a cottage for the weekend so that we could take Hound with us, rather than diverting via Berkshire in order to put her in kennels with someone who knows her. Normally this is no problem – we’ve done this on our trips to Ireland, the Lake District (twice) and Devon. Hound walks in to the place, sniffs round, lies down, and is fine.

Not in the case of the place in Marple. The actual house was fine – we both quite liked it – nothing special, but enough for us to stay in. set right by the canal, it was fairly quiet, and suited us well. But Hound hated it – she just didn’t settle at all. In short, she was a total pain in the arse, unable to settle down when we went to bed, kept on mooching about, scratching the carpet, the lot.

On the Friday night it ended up with me going into the living room at about 2am, and sleeping on the (very small, two-seater) sofa. As soon as I’d done that, the pox-ridden cowbag went and laid in her basket and slept.

On the Saturday night she was even worse, and finally settled at 2.45am. Again, it ended up with me on the sofa, that being the only way she’d lie down at all. Before that time though, she came this || far from being strangled. Or, considering the proximity of a nice cold canal, drowned.

We’ve no idea what it was she hated about the place – but there was obviously something ‘wrong’ with it. We’ve never really seen her in that sort of mood before either, so it was definitely something novel.

Equally, come the Sunday she was most eager to leave the place – she was in the car before we’d even started to pack up, she just had this complete urge to leave the place as soon as possible. Very strange.