While walking on the mount, we noticed the cows were congregated around one of the bottom gates, and there were a couple of ladies on the other side of the gates. Initial suspicion was that the ladies wanted to get on the mount, but the cows were blocking them. Soon, it became clear – as the walkers had exited the mount, one of the greedy cows had followed them through the first trap gate to get to the vegetation in the middle. As the gate closed behind her, the cow got trapped between the twin gates – meadow on one side, the heavy traffic of A31 on the other.
On realising its predicament, the cow started getting agitated – not letting the walkers back in to release the inner gate. Other cows too congregated around the gate out of concern.
Once the situation was clear, I put Chewie on lead, and we calmly walked down to the gate. As the other cows saw us approach, they quietly dispersed, leaving the gate access free. I stood on far side of the gate, Chewie calmly stood next to me, and opened the gate. The trapped cow, quickly scampered through – to the meadow, to other cows, to freedom!
The ladies thanked us, the cows gave us a grateful smile (I’d like to believe), and we walked back up the mount. Halfway up, I released Chewie off lead. He found the ball that he’d dropped earlier, and we merrily carried on home, happy1,2.
I was happy at having helped a cow, but more so at Chewie’s composure – he stayed calm all through, acting mature, never showing any concern towards or against the herd of cows, let alone bark or growl.
Chewie was happy because he had the ball, and we were headed home to his food – the two loves of his life :) ↩
The scenario as it’d have happened if Raghs were with us: I put Chewie on lead, to go rescue the cows. She starts protesting, getting concerned at how he’ll behave, and how the cows will react to us. Chewie senses the anxiety in her body language and tone, and starts getting anxious himself. His anxiety passes on to the cows – through body language or barking. Unsure if we’re friendly or not, we get charged by a dozen, heavy cows. My remains may right now be splattered, mixed with cow dung, on the mount. ↩
Snapped at boy after he went barking due to some neighbourhood activity at crazy o’clock. He got the message and came licked me clean, hugged and slept off.
I didn’t (couldn’t). Carried the day on 2 hours of sleep.
Spent more time driving around Guildford to drop off the boy at his day care, than the train took to get from Guildford to London.
Knocked up Brompton, heavy legs after last evening’s run intervals, and wicked wind didn’t help with ride to old street.
2 hours of productive work.
4 hours of corralling myself into doing work I wasn’t ready for. Nothing got done.
3 hours of productive work.
An hour’s good walk with Chewie.
4 hours of productive work.
1 hour of doodling. Sort of.
2 hours of productive work.
2 hours of discussion around project work and more.
37 lengths of swim.
3 lengths of swim.
Cramp still there.
Train + Bus.
Attacking that work thing I’ve been failing at. One. More. Time.
Bus + Train.