Whore!

I'm such a whore.....
last night I posted an article on dog fencing, which was in fact a blatant advertisement of a potentially very useful product.
I was approached by the company who produces the fencing and asked if I could blog about it, and for my trouble , I would be rewarded by a small fee!
It all seems cosha but I couldn't help feeling all a bit uncomfortable about it all,
I know Going Gently is a collection of stories and thoughts and ideas ( mostly about something or nothing) but essentially all of those stories and thoughts and ideas are all mine and no one else's .
Publicising electric fencing, no matter how good it is , is not quite my raison d'etre.
All of a sudden I feel like Julia Roberts to Richard Gere's sidekick from Pretty Woman....having said this, I still published the advert with my empty hand outstretched, like I said , I'm a whore.

And so I now feel a need to steer Going Gently back to safe waters.....and those waters made me laugh right out loud this morning during a rather wet and cold rainstorm over a very miserable and soggy Trelawnyd.
It was around midday when I finished walking the generally bouncy and very damp terriers and so with a slightly heavy heart I entered the living room in search of Winnie.
Winnie hates morning walks . She particularly detests morning walks in rain, and will endeavour to blend chameleon like into the scatter cushions on the couch or arm chair in an effort not to be dragged outside, even though her bladder may be the size of the average watermelon.
That is the very reason, I now, no longer walk her with the others, they just cant stomach the palaver.
I called her and she kept her eyes very firmly shut. I knew she was awake and was just trying to ignore me , so I slapped her hard on the bottom and ordered her to get up
She opened one eye, with a look of " youuuuuu baasssstard " 
This is the game we play every single day.
More bottom slaps, calls and orders later Winnie finally will stand sulking at the back door. If it is dry and warm, she will put up with the following walk with bored alacrity but , if, like today, the weather is cold and particularly wet, she will always stand in the doorway with a look Bette Davis always  gave Joan Crawford in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. 
It says " You've got to be fucking kidding!" 
Now even bulldogs need to go to the toilet , and understanding that the quicker she " goes" the quicker she can return to the warmth of the Prof's armchair makes Winnie , the Einstein of the cottage animals, for this lunchtime , she side swiped me with the lead in my hand, bounced up into the  garden and with superhuman effort promptly opened her bladder then bowels in the centre of the  gravel path.
She then whirled around with a triumphant look which simply said " Traaaadaaaaaaaaah" 
Then she trotted back through the rain , back through the kitchen and was up in her armchair with her eyes tightly shut before I had even got my coat off.