Sunday has been a funny ole’ sod.

After a week lying about and not doing much in the Lake District, we had to come back and face the reality of everything once again. This happened on Friday and after catching up on chores and putting some food back into the fridge I decided to go back over to Vikki’s house so we could collectively bury our heads in the sand together and pretend Monday wasn’t coming our way.

We opted for a local walk nearby rather than driving somewhere. About ten minutes in we were going past a secondary school when we noticed the shape of an animal shuffling in the distance. At first it looked like a cat but it was too big for that. It was a dog. A car turned around at the end of the street and then drove back in our direction. Once this distraction was out the way the dog looked at us, gave a friendly bark and started lolloping towards us.

What do you do with what appears to be a stray dog? I didn’t know and neither did Vikki so I looked up some websites and they advised to contact the Council. The Council, yeah, the ones that don’t operate on a weekend because they’re closed. They claimed to have a 24 hour line to call but I couldn’t find a number to call. With nothing left to do we gently coaxed the dog to come back with us so we could formulate a plan.

The dog was very domesticated and seemed quite old. She would follow and stop at the side of the road when necessary. She was naturally curious as all dogs are but not to the degree where she would run off to the nearest interesting smell or run into someone’s garden to take a pee. Walking a dog without a lead is risky. Walking an unknown dog without a lead is madness and not something I would recommend to anyone.

After some food, water and a bath, Eloise, a name I gave her, seemed a lot happier. We tried taking her round to Vikki’s parent’s house because they have a bigger garden however they were going away that afternoon so her mum put some photos up on FacePlace in the hope of finding the owner through the local dog pages (see, “locco doggo paggo”). There was nothing much else we could do so I said my goodbyes and headed on my way. As I got in my car I noticed a truck that didn’t look like it belonged to any of the neighbours and saw the man heading round to the front. As I drove past, Vikki’s door was open and the man was talking to her. I knew what was happening so quickly parked and went over.

It would appear as though Eva, for ’twas her real name, a mere thirteen years old, had managed to uncharacteristically escape from the garden and got a bit lost. Their house was down the road from where we had found her. The owner was very pleased to know she was okay after seeing the pictures Vikki’s mum had posted and rushing over as soon as they found out. Eva said goodbye and thus ended the dogventure.