"You’re always with those damn dogs," said Mrs B in a rare fit of pique. "I like walking too you know. It would be nice if you considered me as much as those dogs."
So I left the dogs at home and started taking Mrs B for romantic walks in the countryside, long walks along riverbanks and woodlands. I was doing really well and Mrs B was loving it until I had a lapse in concentration and started throwing sticks for her.
She was none too pleased. I doubt my efforts are going to bring me the Valentine’s pay-off I was hoping for.
I love Wilmslow, I really do, honest. Some of my best friends live in Wilmslow. Granted they all have fur coats and muddy paws but they smell good to me.
I walk my dogs in The Carrs regularly and Wilmslow folks are so smart. They not only point out your dog’s had a poo (just in case you hadn’t noticed) they tell you the colour, the location and the name of the tree. "Excuse me, is that your yellow dog?" "Yes, that’s Murphy". "Well, he’s left a dark-coloured stool beneath the third sycamore on the left."
When a lady said this to me last Sunday I replied in jest: "Is that as you look at it or as you wear it?" She was not amused.
In Macclesfield people just nod at the poo and ask if you need a bag. I can’t imagine anyone there saying: "It’s over there beside the deciduous tree."
It’s a culture thing I need to get used to. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t some enterprising Wilmslow whiz kid developing an app that will give the exact location of every doggy doo in Cheshire via Google Earth.