The world's gorn mad. Mum is sitting at the kitchen table with her foot in a gumbo pot. Haggis was running around sniffing with great intent at nothing we could discern, following a very definite trail from back door to front and back again before going out into the back garden and doing strange AROOOOO! barks. In Haggis's case we all actually worry for his sanity as he is becoming increasingly bewildered and given to strange wanderings off and changes in direction on walks, and I must admit to growling at him tonight, maybe a bit upset by the bizarre behaviour.
Mum's though, we can explain (but it's less fun that way!). Her blisters which erupted on the foot during the narrow boating are now healing and have spent the day 'drying out' but the doctor recommended a salt-water soak tonight to help the healing. The gumbo pot is the only thing we have deep enough to contain the up-the-ankle ones without requiring gallons and gallons of water.
Haggis we may have an innocent explanation for also. Dad clipped his dew-claws and one of them bled a little (oops), so there may have been blood spotting or scent and the 'trail' which H missed on first pass but then picked up 2nd time through, leading him to believe he was on the trail of a bleeding, wounded beastie which if he could just catch up with, he'd have himself a heroic kill on his hands.
Haggis, by the way, is a magnificent 15 years old on Sunday 17th Aug, just over a week from now. Torchwood is just over 20 minutes from now, isn't it Mum?