It’s reaching the 90s by noon, but the mornings are still beautiful, and the dogs were thrilled to be out in the park.
All was going well. We were enjoying the day, catching up on #2 daughter’s travel stories and getting our heart rates up.
We said our good mornings to the other people and the dogs said their good mornings to the other dogs.
I handed Fiona off to #2 daughter and moved in to take a picture of the pony and his friend, a donkey. They were cute. I had no better reason than that. I was looking through the viewfinder and trying to persuade them to come closer.
The dogs, having suddenly thought of the possibility, dashed away and began chasing the pony and the donkey. #2 daughter was dragged to the edge of the barbed wire fence and decided not to be pulled through it. She let go of the leashes. We stood helplessly on our side of the barbed wire, yelling at the dogs, who ignored us completely.
The horse, showing great presence of mind, tried to step on Toby, but he rolled away. The donkey brayed loudly and kicked Toby in the head.
That was enough for Toby. He made a beeline for us, and I grabbed him. Fiona wanted to be further away from the dangerous beasts than we were. She took off for the bridge. #2 daughter caught her, but could not persuade her to come back to the point where Toby and I were waiting. She dug her heels in and would not move.
I joined them. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, we figured, and it served Toby right. He likes to run off, and he loves to chase other creatures, and perhaps, we thought, this experience would make him think twice about his wicked ways.
But after a while, he began to seem tired. He didn’t want to continue the walk. He curled up on himself like a shrimp and shivered. We were alarmed. We took him to the vet.
He is expected to live. We will be going to the gym this morning, rather than the park.