We decide to go away for a night. And take the littlest MacNaughties with us.
It is not out of choice. Life would be a lot simpler if, for once, we could travel dog free.
But the fact is, our naughty Norfolk Terrier is simply too young and too much of a handful to leave with someone else.
And so, his cage is carried from the kitchen and placed in the back of the car.
His bag is packed with everything a dog needs – food, water, biscuits – and off we set.
Why is it called Scotch Corner?
We are heading south into England. Across the Pennines to Scotch Corner. Why is it called that, by the way? Does anyone know?
Common sense would suggest it is because the place is on the route to Scotland.
Turn left at the roundabout and it will take you to Glasgow. For Edinburgh, just carry straight on up the road.
It sounds simple. But there may be another explanation and I am sure you will enlighten me.
Then why is a Scotch Egg so-called?
Because I read claims that this delicacy was invented, not in Scotland, but either by an upmarket London department store, or a Yorkshire butcher.
Questions, questions. I digress. We are now heading through the white rose county. Travelling along the A 1 and M1. With Bennie in the back.
Bennie is not happy
So far, our wee dog has been nice and quiet. But as we go on, he has had enough, and the protests are coming thick and fast.
First there are the indignant squeaks.
Then comes the grunting and snuffling as he tries to head butt his way out of his prison.
And now there is a frantic scratching at the sides of the cage.
The chief pulls into the next service station. And we get our reluctant traveller on the lead and proceed to walk him round a postage-sized piece of grass.
Where he can water a sorry looking tree that no doubt has to daily suffer dozens of other canine waterings…
And then Bennie gets lucky
He has done what he has to do. And his luck is in.
The puppy finds himself a half-eaten ice cream cone and manages to gulp most of it down it before I can get it off him.
It is back in the car. Because we have more miles to go.
Lateral flow tests done, masks at the ready, we are overnighting in a midland’s village.
But when we arrive at our destination, it becomes clear that the ice cream has done its worst.
We don’t want to push our luck…
The puppy has been sick. Happily, he seems non the worse for his ordeal, but a great cage cleaning must now take place – and dusk is falling.
It is not very pleasant work. Yet we can at least comfort ourselves with the fact that where we are, our puppy is a little bit nearer to the land of his forefathers.
As the name suggests, the first Norfolk Terriers were bred, well in Norfolk.
We are tempted to make a detour. But we don’t want to push our luck…
