The Preparation

Sometimes I think I should apologise to the neighbours. It starts as soon as I get out of bed, I'm sure that my movements, smell and possibly thoughts mean that the dogs are certain- This is the day! As I head downstairs I can hear them, stand, stretch and yawn, starting to limber up like any good athlete. During the ritual of dressing, over trousers, boots, day-glo top, neckercheif and helmet, they pace around tails wildly flapping. As I claim the door the atmosphere changes, they stand paused, for what will be the last moment of calm, as players pause before representing their country. Out of the door and it's time to get the scooter out. While I connect line and scooter, closing up the garage door the two hounds continue the warm up routine. The fear of betrayal by a cup of tea is gone, the joy of the day ahead. Millie is first into her harness, obligingly raising a paw at a time and standing quietly for Mishka to come in close. Mishka has been circling like a racehourse entering the trap, or a shark, restless in search of the target. She casually strolls towards me and in one movement slips into her harness. Now the noise, which before was only a vibration of excitment becomes audible. Small whines, yips and high pitched yowls from both dogs.
I open the gate and they surge forwards, but this is a false start to get us on the path. By now the musical shreiks are interspersed with barks and real volpine howls. "We must go, we must go now!"
And so we leave, a cacophany of primal power, an alarm call and warning to all those humans and pets- the pack is on the road at last.