Don't make the Schnauzer feel bad, Mum!

Every day we go on a dog walk. THE dog walk. We build our lockdown day around it. We pass through the grounds of the old Gartnavel Royal Hospital - once called 'The Glasgow Lunatic Asylum'. What a phrase to mug the heart. Ooft. 

It's a spooky old building, half occupied, half derelict - a castle from a Gothic Novel. Mr Rochester's stricken wife must be weeping in one of those turrets?

We walk until we reach, 'The Field of Dogs.' Our Romanian rescue dog, Sita, gallops like an antelope to meet the other dogs. I coo over the cute dogs, (a labrador puppy?!) but Tess warns me to be more egalatarian in my coo-ing. 

Don't make the Schnauzer feel bad, Mum! she whispers. So, I have to make 'cute noises'  in the general direction of less-cute dogs.

Tess is not above some comparison, herself. She likes to decide which dog would be a suitable 'husband' for our Sita.  This is subject to change. One recent 'front-runner', is now demoted, due to his lack of doggy recall and discipline.

He'd turn out to be one of those husbands who wear grey joggys and stays on the X-box all day, says Tess. Quite. 

Disclaimer. I'm sure those husbands are nice too. No husbands have been harmed in the making of this blog. 

Gartnavel Sculpture - Two Hearts by Jephson Rob. 

We meet other dog walkers too. A lovely, older couple with a 'blonde Lab' who lollops. Somehow, the dog reflects their kindness.

We make regular small-talk in gentle morning ritual. How we slept. What we are watching on TV. We stand at least 2 meters apart, hovering, cautious. 

I like to think of us,  in time-lapse photography, viewed from a distance, viewed from above. Clouds billow rapidly, appearing and disappearing. We are all stick men in the field, and the dogs move five times faster than all of us, lapping us with their excited abandon. 

The sun goes in and comes out. Shadows flicker accross the 'Glasgow Lunatic Asylum.'

The hopes and fears of all the years. I had my own struggles with anxiety and OCD, in the past, but the passage of time and a couple of wonderful NHS 'shrinks', led me out of the forest, to the peaceful meadow beyond. 

 Now, I have Tess - the daughter I thought I might never have - to keep me in check, and prevent me from inadvertently offending any passing Schnauzers. Fair deal, I'd say.