Behind the hedge ....

... is a Cooriedog.

As I washed floors, I gave Coorie an account of how muddy floors come about. In short - clean paws go out, dog nose leads to wet bare soil, mud sticks to paws, paws return inside with mud, mud transfers to floor.

On these occasions, I respect a dog's intelligence and rarely leave detail out. I point out that when she sticks to grass, paved areas and, generally, non-soil spaces, there is no mud on the floors and, therefore, no need for emergency floor mopping.

I also point out that the time I was spending on floors could be time more usefully spent, for example, chasing her to get the tennis ball in her mouth. I think this is when I realise I am losing it. Truth is that if I wasn't washing floors, I would be doing something in which Corriedog would have little interest. She knows.

As I rant she sits there with a particular look. That look says - "now remind me, are you the guy who picks up my poohs?".

I know my place.