It strikes me that London dogs are actually the luckiest as they are au fait with all walks of life. A couple of weeks ago, Betty and I were on a walking holiday in the Yorkshire Dales. Both she and I adored every second. She was totally in her element bouncing through heather, cooling off in mountain streams, negotiating embarrassingly narrow styles (a hint to lay off the ploughmans at lunch I felt), trekking along ancient Roman roads (now rocky tracks), swimming in glorious rivers, crossing medieval stepping stones and yet joining us for dinner at upmarket gastro pubs (The Blue Lion in East Witton, since you didn’t ask … heavenly). I find Betty gets judged as she looks ‘groomed’ as being a precious, “townee” dog. She isn’t at all. 46 miles in a week – no problem.
But yet, today back in London, she was just as easy at hopping on the 319 bus, calmly resting while I was groomed at Chelsea salon and checking for squirrels in Battersea Park. So, she, it could be said, has the best of both worlds. But to flip that, I have the best dog for all worlds as she’s so at ease in her Cosmopolitan life. Universal Betty. Isn’t that really what we all want – a dog for any occasion?
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