Because of El Hombre being ill I decided to take the pushchair and the two dogs out. Not an easy task I tell you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if only the streets were flat and I felt certain the dogs would be all right being off lead, but no, I am not so lucky.

In order to get to the flatter streets of town, you have to navigate a hill going downwards. So off I went with a dog on either side, and it went ok apart from the odd eagerness to get going which resulted in the dogs pulling a bit.
But then they spotted some food on the street and being the greedy fuckers they are, almost pulled me down the hill. I swear, some days they do my head in.

Furter down in the village I ran into an old Spanish man who, after seeing my getup with two dogs and a pushchair, asked me if I was not scared that the dogs might jump up and bite the baby? Ahemmm, no?  I decided there was no point in telling him that the dogs sleep inside on their shared doggy bed next to the fireplace. He was an old man and there is no point risking him having a heat attack. I just once again show the differences in attitude to animals in Southern Spain and Northern Europe.