This is the tale, on the one hand, of an errant black dog called Lillie.
She has a white flag on the end of her tail. So now you'll be able to spot her a mile off. Just call "Lillie" in a loud voice . . and she'll totally ignore you - unless you are a canny woman who waves a plastic bag of dog goodies in the air at the same time.
I digress.
In her young take-care-of-yourself days Lillie learnt that being uncared for could only be dealt with by learning to cross major roads and sniffing out a good meal when a mile off.
Now, her instinctis still as finely tuned as ever.
Few would be stupid enough to give her a character reference as a dog that ignores the call of a door, left open for a split second, to the wild beyond.
If her walks aren't up to scratch or there's that whiff in the wind - she gives her now caring owners quite a scare !
On the other: down in South Ulverston there's someone who has learnt what errant dogs get up to.
He is tall, dark, hansom, perceptive, fit, loves running, good with dogs, - in fact everything a wild errant dog needs if they are to find a warm place by the fire back home before midnight on a bitterly cold night.
The scene is set.
So what happened ?
Dog out for a jaunt with caring owner to a friends house in the Church Walk area.
It's 22.20.
Time to go home, time.
That call-to-the-wild opportunity presents itself.
Lillie - now you see her , now . . . .
"Lillie",
"Lillie",
"Lillie",
"Lillie",
But, I ask myself, was this accompanied by the canny-woman-who-waves-a-bag-of-goodies-in-the-air-at-the-same-time, trick.
No matter.
No Lillie.
Nothing to do, - - - but go home and wait.
Hubby even sets up the web cam to view, across The Gill, possible returning-home, dog.
23.20 midnight approaches.
"Luv"
"There's a knock at the door"
"Is this your dog" says the tall, dark, hansom, perceptive, fit, loves running, good with dogs youth. (Actually he's just a silhouette against the lamplight)
"I've just chased him/her all the way from South Ulverston"
And with that he disappears - it's cold and his home calls and it's quite a jog home.
Sounds like a story made up by an old cogger for his blog.
But, remember, this is Ulverston where there are some impressive people around when you need them.
Thanks.
2 comments:
You have a real talent Geoff
Please write a kids story, a story about the gill grumblers or gill goblins,gill growths, gill ghosts.
I have followed the stream underground with a mate from union st to the iron gate we were searching for coins that fell from the yearly fairs held there we found plenty but the rare ones stuck in crevices were one sided due to the flow of the stream.
JAK
Thanks for your encouragement.
As far as I'm aware, telling a story comes from within.
One has to be in the mood.
This one flowed.
I'd be delighted to publish other people's short stories - or just description of scenes.
I suspect the more you do it, the easier it becomes.
I used to dread my English weekly homework. It plagued my whole week end.
'The Mystery of the Lighthouse Solved'was a nightmare at age 15.
As I tried to write it , I did everything but and a lovely series of drawings of daffodils that happened to be sitting on the table were the result.
I went on to fail my English exam which was essential to get into University.
All things change when you are doing things for the fun of it.
'Having to' is a real drag.
.
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