It’s been warm in France, on average eighteen degrees. For November it seems too good to be true. Back in England November is a chill, drab grey sort of month where the rain drops sneak persistently down the back of your neck or the stiff winds make umbrellas a health hazard. But yesterday the fields were shrouded in a dense mist and the sun peeked through briefly. Our log burner stayed on for most of the day and the chickens, always fussy about feathers, hovered around the coop snoozing and scratching around their seed mixes.
Bella and Sake are typically sausage shaped for the breed, not an easy shape to find good tailoring and previous coats have looked like parents who send their children off to school in the hand me down clothes of a brother or sister, far larger or smaller. Without Alice in Wonderlands Drink Me and Eat Me solutions or in my case working out how to use my new sewing machine, off to the shops we go.
So here they are. Snug as bugs. Normally these two are as wiggly as hello and a handful, but no sooner as installed in the lines and padded jackets, silence. Absolute silence!
At first I thought it might be trauma. The first jackets we bought involved hand to hand or rather hand to paw fighting and lots of snapping of teeth. This time they stood and lifted each paw obligingly into the leg holes. Velcro velcroed and zips zipped, success and no tantrums.
Currently they are sleeping while Tony looks for a phone at Leclerc. Two slices of dinde (turkey in French) are being digested and once home, it will be another snooze in blankets by the fire. It’s a dogs life but a very comfy one. Shove over guys….I want to share that basket.