Chased by Hounds

A while ago I was out on my bike enjoying the lovely Cumbrian countryside, here I am:

No, sorry, wrong sketch

I’d just safely negotiated a Strava section called ‘Chased by hounds’ which was very well named and never failed to deliver. After a 300-yard sprint through a farm with two border collies and a german shepherd as my personal trainers, I was a bit knacked.

A mile later I saw a woman up ahead with three dogs. The dogs saw me and immediately tensed. As you know from those three characters above, I’m used to dogs running after me so it wasn’t a problem, more sprint training.

‘Awww, Snuffly Wuffles, don’t…’ said the woman. It was their command to mobilize.

Snuffly Wuffles ran right at me and I foolishly applied the brakes, which was when he clamped his jaws around my front tyre to prevent any forward movement. He knew what he was doing. His two colleagues, I didn’t catch their names but I’m going to call them ‘Knee Muncher’ and ‘Elbow Chewer’ moved in from the side and, I think I’ve given it away a bit with the naming, latched their jaws onto my knee and elbow.

‘Awwww, stop that you lot.’ said the woman, still 50 yards down the road, in a tone I would use if I was talking to a fluffy unicorn who was being too affectionate.

I’ve never been in this situation before and you don’t know how you’re going to react until it happens, but, unfortunately,  I turned into a Hugh Grant, Four Weddings and a Funeral sort of character.

‘Awwwww, silly thing,’ said the woman, to the dog I’m hoping.
‘And the other one is dangling off my arm, do you see?’ I said, chirpily.
‘Yes, yes, they’re very playful,’ she shouted, still 20 yards away.
‘Could you maybe get them off and I can continue with my pleasant bike ride through the English countryside.’
With a walk reserved for Sunday afternoon window shopping, she eventually arrived on the scene and wafted her arms about like that tubey guy outside car showrooms in a very gentle breeze.

.
The dogs, sick of the taste of me, unclenched and backed off.
‘You lot, tut tut, tut’ said the woman playfully shaking her head as she carried on down the road.

And that was it. 

I carried on my pleasant ride through the English countryside, with teeth marks on my knee and blood dripping down my elbow. And I contemplated the thought – when is it reasonable to get angry? Surely that would’ve been a  good moment. And I got angry about not getting angry.

And what if something worse happens, will Hugh Grant turn up again,

‘And by all means, help yourself to the TV, the refresh rate is exceptional and the colours simply vivid.’

Get lost Hugh, this is who I need to be.

Dwayne, where are you when I need you?

With all this negative dog talk I thought I’d better finish with a nice sketch of me playing with Norman in the garden


Have a great weekend.

Take care and all the best,

Ian

(If you want to leave a comment below, that would be great)