As I lay there I reasoned that at best, she was walking alone. At worst, it meant I was having to leave my lovely warm cushion, which was perfectly smoodged into all the right places, up under my hips, under my chin and around my front legs. And do you know what that gal did next, she got her coat, her boots, some dumpling bags and then got my little bra ready for me to wear. There was no escaping the fact we were going out, and no matter how much I protested by standing under the lounge table, I was going too. Even more worserer it meant we weren’t seeing Sally, I knew that because we see each other in the afternoon between day-nap and after tea nap.  I wasn't happy!

I’d forgotten her groomer was coming and the Macmillan work today, so no wonder we had to go early. But I’d also forgotten about the distance/step counting computer thingy-ma-jig, and when I saw Sarah attach it to my bra,I  suddenly became much more interested in the whole thing. When we left the house I tried as hard as I could to walk normally. I didn’t want to falsify any information, I definitely wanted to beat Sarah but I wasn't going to cheat.

We only walked to the end of the second field because we were short of time, but it was wonderful. The air (and the mud, tee-hee-hee) tasted all autumnal, its musty fragrance umami and yummy. The field was soft and there were plenty of gulls to look at. I bobbed and trotted and bounced along, sniffing as much as I could sniff, all the while aware that the little distance/step counting computer thingy-ma-jig was checking up on me.

It was on the return leg of our plod that I exacted my revenge. I’d forgotten all about the pile of ‘doings’ just by the hedge. It was a pile of something in the long grass I’d spotted a few days ago. Today, though, it sort of leapt out at me. Somehow, I lost all sense of propriety, gratitude, peace and love to all humankind and before I knew it I was rolling in the ‘doings!' I had a smashing wiggle about before Sarah had even realised I had stopped walking. Boy, did that stuff stick. I got it all over the thingy-ma-jig, the straps of my bra and, and–I cannot help myself from laughing even now–I managed to fill the little loop my lead clips onto with the 'doings' and Sarah had to poke it out with a stick so that we could get home! It was classic. I couldn’t have done that on purpose, even if I had tried. Poor Sarah.

Rather irritatingly, she seemed fine about it. She wiped her hands on a dock leaf and as she bumbled down the footpath she mumbled the special names she saves for those moments when I surpass myself. Freakie-Dickie-Hideous-Piggy-Twattydog are some of them, hardly poetic and a somewhat lame attempt from someone who has an MA (credit) in creative writing, if you want my view.

Sarah's wittering warbles soon stopped when a green woodpecker landed on the path a little way ahead as we walked towards the lane. With the 'score' 1-1 we ploded home in time for me to score an own goal. She hosed me off in the garden, which was just rude of her. It was decidedly chilly and I could have caught my death, apparently, someone called Karma had something to do with the the alfresco bath.

I have to be honest and share with you I’m a little sad we’re getting near to the end of the 100 day challenge. It’s been such a joy to do… but the fat lady hasn’t burst into song just yet, no echoing of Puccini’s ‘one fine day’ (Madame Butterfly) rattling round the house yet, so onwards we go. Best paws at the ready and forward we go, my lovely chums.

PS I think Sarah may have transposed the figure she has recorded for my steps. I'm sure it should be 9,470!