Water

Wet stuff, nice for plodging in.  I wish I could do this:

But I fell in the pond when I was very, very little (about 4 weeks old, Bean says) and now I'm not that keen if I can't have a foot on the ground.  Stop sniggering at the back, I know I'm a labrador and I'll plodge and plowter all day and love to cover you all in wet, green, partially solid wet stuff.  But, well, you can't help it can you? things that happen to you when you're a puppy scar you for life, same with fireworks. Oh well. Maybe one day, in the mean time I'll just keep on losing things at the bottom of ditches.

(more underwater dogs on The Guardian website)

Michaelmas Day

Is grey, wet and miserable. We don't have any Michaelmas daisies any more - not sure why not - but if we did their head would be pointing earthward like so many other plants, my poor thistles are virtually horizontal, I'm going to have to tie them up to stop their crowns rotting and then pray we don't get massive gales to snap off their stems.
The ground is sodden and so are we, we're running out of dog towels - not helped by Finn who emptied the dog dish all over the kitchen floor. This time it really was an accident, his big heavy ball bounced in and tipped it up - however, the flood in the dog house was probably deliberate, thank goodness all the beds are off the floor otherwise we'd be trying to dry those too!