One of the great things about the beaches in Northumberland is the dunes, a real bonus for inquisitive pups at the end of their walk on the beach.
The dunes are full of interesting things to sniff and clumps of grass to investigate. They are also some very unpleasant things to be found, and true to form Harry found something. Something particularly nasty. Then he rolled in it. Twice.
If you’ve never encountered the odour of fox poop before, then count yourself very, very lucky. There’s a certain je ne sais quoi about it, it’s difficult to describe, but it’s not something we ever want to smell again.
We had no alternative, we couldn’t go back with Harry looking and smelling like something out of a horror movie, so it was back to the sea for a wash. Of course the tide was out, a long way out, and when we finally got to the water’s edge, Harry was tired and didn’t want to get wet again. No amount of throwing bits of seaweed into the sea would entice him in, so there was nothing else to do, one of us had to lead the way.
I’d like to say there was a discussion, and the decision was a fair one, but it wasn’t. The North Sea? In September? You’re kidding. This was a man’s job, no doubt about it.
Needless to say, as soon as Harry was clean we were off that beach at the speed of light. And Harry was on his lead for the trip back through the dunes.