It's Thursday and the promise of another hot and windless day in the West Norfolk Fenland and the plan is to walk the two Jack Russell Terriers in the plum orchard early and before the sun has really gathered some heat.
Barney is trundling along checking scents and peeing, Lucie is racing the farmer's golden retriever Holly when she throws herself to the ground on her side with a controlled slide across the grass.
When I catch up with them the hideous stink of fox shit fills the air. Lucie has powered her way through it and then wriggled about in it for maximum effect and the smear starts under her left eye and goes all the way along her body to her tail, the noxious substance is also caught under her collar and harness just for good measure. She stinks, she really, really stinks.
The farmer comments about the smell when she's a good ten yards away from him, unfortunately she's on the lead and a yard away from me and I think there must be a swarm of flies following us and the stench that is trailing away behind us.
Her first ever bath is definitely looming.
The first bath is simply a wrestling match and now I've got the fox shit all over my clothes, bad to worse you could say. I don't know what a skunk smells like but it cannot be worse than this. Shampooed, and all fly-away we've got the 'what's all the fuss about butter wouldn't melt look on' so it's time for a good shake to give anybody nearby a good spraying and soaking then away to lie in the sun and dry out. Preferably somewhere mucky to get a little dirt back on her bright white coat.
I think I'll get changed.