Two in the sun, one in the proverbial

      There's nothing quite a like a walk with three angelic Parson Jack Russell Terriers in the cool of the morning, everybody says 'what lovely dogs', 'aren't they cute'. Well possibly.
      Half way round the circuit we meet up with one of our farmer neighbours and his dog. Then, as you do in West Norfolk, you stand putting the world to rights, you know discussing the usual idiot politicians and their stupidities then you shout up the dogs to head for home and a coffee.
      Our two terriers arrive along with the farmer's dog. Our daughter's Parson Jack Russell is off hunting out over the field but as we  start walking she comes thundering past seemingly full of the joys of life. When we are getting close to the gate that leads out onto the drove she's reluctant to have her lead attached and when I bend down to attach it I realise why.

      She's been sliding her face and jaw around in some large heap of fox poo and she absolutely stinks, it's evenly distributed over both sides with lumps in the collar and harness, it's even in her ear. What a pleasure.
      Just what is the attraction? Even flies don't land on that stuff.
      The dreaded bath has to happen and while she is washed we have a virtual clothes peg on our collective noses. Finally after the wrestling in the soapy water Fizz is all clean and white again but now smelling like a wet sheep as she dries out and wet sheep is a smell we can cope with.
      Bloody foxes. Bloody terriers too.