Anyway, while I was taking a photo of that, my dog disappeared! I saw a pheasant fly off and assumed she had flushed it. I couldn’t find her. I called and blew the whistle but no sign. I went back to the cottage to see if she'd made her way back but all that did was panicked Mrs Mottie when I said she was lost. By now it was getting darker.
Our male border collie, was forever escaping the garden and taking himself off exploring the village. My best attempts to prevent his escapades failed, but he would always find his way home. One night, out searching for him, I spotted him coming towards me, on a narrow footbridge, with a very determined look in his eye. I called him, he ignored me, and just marched at speed straight past me.
One night, alone in the house - her ladyship had taken herself away on a Calais shopper trip, he escaped at midnight. I had no choice, but to wait up all night to let him back in - waiting for his tap at the back door. The tap didn't come until 6am. I never did find out where he went, but he always knew his way round the village better than me.