Mad Dog

Having wasted all day Saturday in a medical torpor, I vowed to spend Sunday productively. I decided to take the dog to Wormwood Scrubs.

But of course, the universe conspired against me -- the overground trains weren't running from West Hampstead, and they're our usual method of transport to Wormwood Scrubs. So Olga and I turned tail and headed down the graffiti-lined Billy Fury Way toward our regular stomping ground, Hampstead Heath.

The Heath is still beautifully summery, even as we begin to slide into fall. There are hints of the changing seasons -- the temperatures are cooler and some of the horse chestnut leaves are starting to yellow.

Olga found a deep hole for joyful wallowing.

And then, as if that weren't enough, she found a mud bog with the blackest, nastiest mud I've ever seen. She not only climbed in, but submerged and lost her Kong toy -- which I then managed to retrieve, miraculously, using a long stick.

She looked like she had a bad blue-black dye job from the waist (?) down.

Needless to say, a bath was required when we got home.

You know how I've observed Olga slowing down on some of our recent Heath walks? Well, not this one. She was as crazy and energetic as a puppy. She didn't get a walk on Saturday, so maybe she had spare energy to burn!