Naughty Freda and the Dead Seals

Naughty Freda

A few weeks ago, we had the mother of all storms. Her name was Ophelia, and if she wasn’t quite a hurricane by the time she reached us, she made a pretty good show of it. A true Elemental Queen, she came roaring in with her army of SuperSylphs and caused chaos.

It was a strange day altogether. The morning looked like the end of the world, with a sinister red sun struggling through a thick blanket of dark cloud, but when the storm actually reached its peak the sky was clear and bright. Annabelle thought it would be a great opportunity to have a look at some big waves, so we headed for the beach.

However, we hadn’t reckoned with Ophelia’s power. The wind was so strong we could hardly stand up. I got blown over twice, and as we got closer to the beach, the SuperSylphs started kicking sand in our faces. By the time we reached the cliffs we were being blinded, and Annabelle had to cover her face with her hands. The waves looked mountainous, but she could only catch the tiniest glimpse of them through her fingers. Disappointed, we turned for home.

At least we escaped in one piece, which is more than can be said for the hundreds of baby seals who were dashed on the rocks that day. The local wildlife have been feasting on their poor little bodies ever since, and now the beach is littered with rotting offal.

Last week we went down there with our friends Snip and Freda. Snip, Pearl and I left the offal alone – it was too putrid even for us – but Freda couldn’t resist. She shot off into the distance at Greyhound miles an hour, and when we caught up with her we found her tucking into a filthy tangle of decomposing entrails. No matter how many times she was pulled away, she kept going back for more. Afterwards she stank like the pits of hell, and everyone was waiting for her to be sick. Not that we wanted to see that mess again, especially in a half-digested state!

Annabelle can’t understand why we dogs like things that humans find disgusting. ‘Your sense of smell is fifty times more sensitive than ours,’ she says. ‘How can you stand to be near badger poo or decomposing flesh?’

I’m afraid that’s a question I can’t answer. Do any of you know?

NB – Sorry for the lack of photos of ex-hurricane Ophelia, but it was impossible to take pictures through a sandstorm. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see a picture of Freda’s beach picnic!

 

 

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