Dook and me

I think its called breaking your dog or you broke your dog. Basically knackered it out. Unless you've had a sled dog you will not have a clue. Yesterday dook had had a number of walks,  7 odd miles in spaces throughout the day. No where near enough. As soon as we went to bed he was nestling down for half hour them pacing about for twenty minutes, another snooze then a stomp. He just has far more energy than me on a bad or even average day. When I got him, I'm 49, I was aware it was my last chance to own and enjoy the camaraderie of a semi wild beast which essentially they are. Any older and I wouldn't have strength. Finally at 5 am I gave in, had a quick cup of tea then set off in to the darkness. Few cars are about then so less lead time in the quater mile to Victoria park. Here I let him run loose in the children's (no dogs) zone but no one is there and I clear any mess. He lets rip and tears across the field at any ground sat wildlife. At 5 the gulls, ravens and pigeons aren't up yet so we swing it in to the next field of vic park. No dog walkers are out yet. A bit of ball play gives him his chance to demonstrate his grace.
Lead again for a few more streets, constant instinctual husky pull, handy on the hills, a skateboard would be cool. Must be half hour before we hit the hills proper. Here you can see all across holcombe, chantry, Mells, whatley, small villages dot the rolling green. The earliest dog owners generally are out at about 6 so 5 gives you the virgin world. I find the lost money and cigarettes. It would be me who found the body. I almost expect to see a hanging man where the small shrine left for a 21 year old lad who topped himself . There's a railway line above and I don't know if he threw himself in front of the speeding locomotive ensuring a drivers lifetime of bad dreams, or if he used a noose from the steel structure. There are no great fixing points so he may have chosen the sturdy bough of one of the many oaks, beech, ash or even sycamore though its shorter grain makes it an awkward three for tree surgery. Sycamores short grain means, if you do go for a neck snap hanging, make sure its a decent branch. Most self hangings are lynchings themselves which can take half an hour. Back in the days when lynching was the preferred method of execution The hangman would famously turn a blind eye to the more popular condemned men to allow the women and children to swing on his legs and briefed his misery by a considerable time. Less popular executed men were circled by a tight ring of men to prevent such kindness. Why the average suicide doesn't opt for the long drop and In stant death I can only guess that it seems less gentle. Perhaps the self destructor desires the half hours final contemplation. That would make a kind of sense. Albert Pierepoint, britains most prolific hangman of the twentieth century prided himself on the time of the journey from the holding cell, belting thatms, hood,noose, platform lever at an average of 12 seconds. I believe 7 seconds was his record. A humane kind of pride in a dark corner of our world. Alberts uncle worked out a table to calculate rope length to physique of the man to be executed. Albert  perfected this and a few glances in to the holding cell were sufficient to gauge the perfect length. Prior to this all sorts of horrors took place from decapitation to lynching. Visiting this shrine as I regularly do fills me with shame at what I had considered.
If day is breaking around this point you can have the joy of disturbing roosting buzzards  the lucky walker sand find these vast glories of nature taking off for more open ground. One seldom gets that c lose to these mmagnificent  creatures. My brother found two on seperate occasions buzzards with broken wings. One didnt last more than a few days but the other was about ready to return to the wild. Sadly, two cars of uninvited party guests arrived and the bird freaked out and battered itself beyond repair. Sad story. We were living in Cornwall, I'd left school and home on the same day and after six months sofa surfing grouped up with my closest mates and rented a cottage in central Cornwall, well off the beaten track. This was a wonderful time of awakening for a city boy like me. Cutting firewood with bowsaw and axe which I did each day, was what got me interested in wood as a material. Our kids room was full of buzzard shit.
Me and Dook cut up the other side of the valley. Just starting to get light. Its a fantastic valley, largely invisible due to its green shroud. But I find spots to get a good perch. Once I can get a new laptop I'll post some good photos.
We're briefly back on a minor road, across a stream, then back up the hill to the clover fields. Dook has got his rocks of more or less by now and isn't charging through brambles with no consideration for personal injury chasing young deer, rabbit, squirrel. Once in the clover fields a few If the earlier dog walkers were out. Dog politics is a right confused mess. From what i have seen, in an open field, if both dogs are off leads, there will be play and never a fight. If you both have them on leads you stretch your arms off as they pull to go day hello to each other. Then, finally, one on a lead and one off. General,y in an open space, dogs should be off leads. On streets practicality means leads are necessary. Then there are the places no one is quite, open spaces with tight paths. Here anarchy prevails. The Dip comes to mind.
Back home for eight so I guess that's ten miles or so. I shall test but will be woken shortly.