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(Hands up anyone who has a sense of foreboding. You know me so well.)
Just as Bosun had almost come within my grasp he reared himself up out of the water - don't you just love hump backed whales - and then his front paws came down heavily - one on my head and the other on my chest. I went under, oh so far under. When I managed to break the surface once more I found I was looking directly towards the Isle of Wight. I expelled a pint or so of briny water and turned round 180° to see my dog back on the shore, shaking copious amounts of water from his coat over my friend who had collapsed on to the beach in a stupor of uncontrollable laughter.
After a few deep breaths I swam back to shore, reclaimed my dog and walked passed the holiday makers, head held high, avoiding their eyes at all costs. My t-shirt sported a new six inch slash which had gone through to the padded bra I was wearing. Newfis not only have big feet - their claws are incredibly forged like blacksmith's tools. I just kept walking. My friend caught up with me and as we both started to laugh realised that the Noddy train had done it's last run for the day. Wet denim shorts and top on a long walk back to the car through a midge-infested area of grass land was not my best-ever outfit. How can a mature, educated and intelligent (even if I say so myself) woman have been so rash? It was an extremely uncomfortable trek back to the car. I was covered in insect bites. Bosun was perfectly happy, sublimely unaware of my predicament and, as ever, wagging his tail all the way home.
Thank you for some wonderful memories Bosun ♥♥♥