Who would do such a thing, especially in this beautiful place? Rose had to make her feelings plain…
BY CARRIE HEWLETT
Fine, Banjo. Give me a moment.” Rose smiled to see her Labrador’s tail wagging furiously at the thought of walkies. Aged six, he was loyal, fun and loving, and the only things he asked for in return were food, cuddles and long walks.
Who could ask for better company than that? Certainly not Rose; and though she’d not been in a relationship for nearly a year, that suited her just fine.
Stepping out into bright sunshine, she inhaled the sweet scent of freshly mown grass. May was turning into a lovely month after a spate of heavy showers.
They’d recently moved to a new area which she was still getting to know. It had a large park and woods nearby, though, which Banjo loved.
A grand manor house lay adjacent, and Rose admired it every time she wandered by. She’d often wondered who lived there, and whether it was open to the public. With tall windows set into golden stone walls, it stood proudly as if the surrounding nature had embraced it.
After playing on the open green, they headed into the wooded area towards an old oak tree in a myriad of browns, its weathered boughs stretching upwards like giants’ arms. It was the subject of a tree preservation order, and had sparked Rose’s curiosity due to the sign explaining its age.
As she approached, she glanced down towards its well-anchored roots, and sucked in her breath.
No! Who would do such a thing? It was unthinkable. Being a dog walker herself, she always had a good supply of doggy bags to pick up any gifts Banjo left. But whoever owned this dog had let it do its business and walked off. How disgusting!
Incensed, she felt in her pockets for something to write on, pleased to find some Post-it notes. She also had a waterproof marker pen hidden among old till receipts, a packet of tissues and some small change. Pockets were as good as handbags on occasion!
She quickly scribbled a note.
Give this tree dignity and clear up your dog’s mess!
Securing the note with a couple of large stones that lay close by, she then used one of her own doggy bags to scoop it up to drop into a bin later.
“Come on, Banjo. Let’s head home. You need a good shower after running through that water.”
What was it about dogs? They had an irrepressible urge to run through the most stagnant of puddles.
Banjo shook his broad
