Spotted in Bigtown this afternoon: a smiley sort of labrador busily picking up all the discarded plastic bottles along the river bank.
Admittedly, she was doing it because she liked to play with them, not because she’d been trained to gather them up and put in the bin, but as her owner said, ‘Ach well, if it makes me look good, I’ll no argue wi’ that!’*
Still, it’s a thought. And with a different sort of dog (Rottie, staffordshire, growly alsation) trained to return litter to the litterer with menaces, we might actually be getting somewhere…
* As you can see, I’m making great strides with the language. Although the postie was telling me something complicated about his lost horse** yesterday that I couldn’t make head or tail of.
** Not how he delivers the post, in case you’re wondering. We’re not that rural
Fab, our neighbour’s labrador/spaniel takes anything my kids leave out to her house – several odd shoes later, we twigged. Unfortunately he also did the same with the contents of our bathroom bin when he’d been round for his morning cuddle/leftovers – I’ll leave the ensuing scene of my chasing the mutt down the lane in my nightie wearing latex gloves to your imagination – I’m generous like that
Mmmm, thanks.
I once spent a week or so staying with a family that had a shoe-stealing boxer dog. I was warned about leaving my shoes out but it got hold of one of mine anyway – an old sneaker. A very old sneaker. It dropped it at my feet with a resentful expression that clearly said, ‘I’m not chewing that!’