Drip...drop...drip

Early this morning, Breagh and I splashed our merry way up the track (the puppy tip-toeing around the deepest puddles) and into a field where we followed the bald stripes of mown silage - the cut grass lay in sodden mounds to each side of our feet. Fionn cat wailed his dislike of the conditions under-paw and stepped gingerly along the tops of the dykes. Someone should invent wellies for cats!