a wing and a prayer

oh my! yesterday saw herself's sense of humour failure reach new heights. young dave and i were taken for a late afternoon walk on the beach. himself came along to get a bit of fresh air. things were going fine until we got out of the car. and indeed they were not going badly until we hit the shingle. from there it was downhill.

young dave found a seagull's wing, or in fact two wings joined together with a bit of seagull in the middle. a fox (wash out my mouth!) or some other creature had eaten the rest of the gull. young dave became very boastful about his catch and ran gloatingly in circles for quite some time. herself ran fruitlessly after him. she very quickly decided that i should take over and attempt to relieve young dave of his smelly prize. young dave had other ideas and let out a rather alarming growl before heading off at high speed. after a little while of this himself was sent to sit in the car to avoid getting a chill. herself and i circled after young dave. he managed to keep just ahead of us, pausing every now and again to pull more sinews and fat out of the former gull.

herself would probably not have minded this little diversion, but for the thought of the aftermath of regurgitated seagull sinews in the house (or as my boy calls it since the new cleanliness regime, the biosphere). but young dave was off in a gull-induced trance and spent a happy hour or so being chased round the beach by herself. she alternated between cajoling him with treats and throwing handfuls of shingle at him while shrieking that she hated him. how is the poor chap supposed to know where he stands? the peeps are always on about consistent parenting but young dave was being given a very mixed message.

it began to get dark. herself stood forlornly on the beach waiting. young dave, having been allowed to finish off his snack, pulled the last couple of sinews from the carcass, licked his less than wholesome chops, and wandered over to herself, before sitting down perkily and waiting for a treat. herself, with admirable composure, clipped on his lead and brought him back to the car, where himself and i were watching proceedings in a resigned fashion. young dave climbed in, smelling rather interesting.

the evening was spent with the whole family watching dave for signs of intestinal discomfort. no-one wanted the results of his binge spread around the floor. but young dave has the constitution of a lurcher. apart from the odd belch he appeared to suffer no ill effects. until this morning, when herself came down to find a very large cylindrical pellet, that looked as though it had been left by an oversized owl. it appears that even young dave cannot digest feathers...