Pollyanna & Primrose’s next instalment

Written by their owner Dave.

‘Our wonderful summer continues. I’m certain it is hotter than in ‘74 or whenever it was. It makes you want to get out and appreciate this wonderful world we live in. If you are fortunate enough to live near the coast of Cornwall then you are doubly blessed.

The day, like many others, started early with a breakfast of kibble for the pugs and weetabix, dried fruit and a cup of tea for me. I listened to the news on the television while I caught up on my correspondence and the pugs, after their breakfast exertions, were snoring contentedly on their bed in the early(ish) morning sunshine.

At a warm and windless eight thirty a.m. we made our usual pilgrimage to the beach. It was relatively quiet which makes this time of day all the more special. The sun was up; comfortable for now, not too hot but starting to warn of what was to come. Both the girls did their business, had a paddle, splash and run around in the shallows before we left for the relative cool of home and our mid morning snack. The pugs have a dollop of live, low fat yoghurt with a little fruit. Its healthy eating in my household, at least as far as the girls are concerned.

They spent the rest of the day alternating between sleeping in the warm sun and in the shade under my chair on the patio. I read a book, drank tea, ate chocolate oaties and listened to test match special on the radio. Fortunately life doesn’t get much more hectic than this although at one stage I did contemplate getting out the furminator and giving them a groom. Fortunately that thought soon passed.

In the evening, well fed and rested the girls were bouncing about again so we went for a stroll through the village, over the playing fields and on to the local pond, which is actually more of a small lake surrounded by leafy, mature trees and is quite breathtakingly beautiful. A couple of lads were fishing and carp were dimpling the surface in the evening sun. A few ducks were squabbling noisily over some bread a family were throwing to them. It was an idyllic scene. There were lots of new smells and probably a few old ones from the last time we had been there. We walked around the lake, on through some woods, where the sun filtered through the high canopy, then along the canal path, over the railway line and back to the village.

Walking through the village, instead of going home as intended, we decided to wander down by another stream, through more shady woods and onto the beach. Here the stream merges with two other streams to form a river which runs down one side of the sands. The tide was a big spring and high. The sea had backed up into the river which was probably around fifteen metres wide and several feet deep at this state of the tide. To our left was thick undergrowth barring our passage and to our right an expanse of water doing the same. We could, perhaps should have turned around at this juncture but I thought there was just enough room to get through . . . . . at a pinch and if we were careful. A safe passage necessitated climbing over and around some grassy hummocks. I calculated that it was probably doable. I could carry the pugs if they baulked at any stage of the passage; it seemed like a plan.

My plan hadn’t catered for Polly adopting a different approach to the problem. Running down the path she leapt across some water and up onto a grassy hump. From there she launched herself straight into the river which was around five or six feet deep at the point of entry. My first course of action was to panic and go in after her but she bobbed about completely unfazed, had a look around, then with a leisurely doggy paddle made her way back to shore further down the beach. She ran / swam back through the shallows and upon climbing out had a shake and sat down. She was showing what is left of her teeth, in her, “I deserve a treat for that”, approximation to a smile. I gave her a piece of tripe stick which she devoured with relish and then promptly repeated her new party piece in the hope of further recompense. Not to be left out Primrose followed suit.

A guy with a spaniel was cracked up watching and ventured that he didn’t think pugs were meant to do that sort of thing. I didn’t either but have seen my partners pug do it in the past. One winter she leapt into a freezing cold pool on a beach near Newquay and another time straight into my koi pond. On another occasion when I took her fishing with me she jumped in attempting to retrieve a fish I had just returned. Another local pug owner has hers follow her into the shower.

On the beach proper the pugs chased the spaniel in and out of the water much to the delight of each other and a number of onlookers. Spray seemed to be flying everywhere and all three were well and truly soaked when the carousing came to an end.

The Pugsters were shattered and they were not the only ones. All this tearing about had made me feel quite exhausted and a tad thirsty so we stopped at “The Ship” for pint of Tribute on the way home. Purely medicinal of course – to replace the fluids I had lost watching the girls.’