Doggy diversity and lorry drivers

How can two dogs - of similar size, the same breed, and the littler one being nephew to the older one - be so different in their attitudes to so much?

Take for example grass cutting. We are basically surrounded by a mossy field with some hedge-like planting around the edges Cutting what grass hasn't been strangled by the moss would be a long and arduous task with a push-along mower, so we have a mulching tractor that we sit upon and drive. Top speed is enough to make any following dog break into a gentle trot. Any following dog being Four-legged-friend who faithfully trots after me, along-side me and in front of me in ever decreasing circles. Yes! - circles. I am not in possession of that peculiar trait that would turn lawn-mowing into an obsession with stakes to mark out the tractor turning points at the verges (I kid you not!) and precision cutting in straight lines with impressive displays of fretting when the lines become wavy ... namely a Y-chromosome. Circles do me fine!

Back to Four-Legged-Friend following me round and round and round - does he think I might stop and pluck some delicious food from my pocket; or suddenly tire of juddering along and stop to play; or is he worried and trying to find a way of saving me from the noisy beast that has clearly captured me and is threatening to carry me off? Perhaps it is the latter which would explain his perverse and dangerous habit of being on my right when I want to turn right, on my left ... you can see where this is going! ... when I want to turn left, and behind when I recklessly throw it into reverse. Stupid or brave...?

Bertie Baggins on the other hand sits and watches. Chews a bone. Watches. Nods off. Wakes and gets up to drop bits of bone, chewed flower pot and sticks in the path of the tractor. Then watches as I stop; switch off; climb down; fend off my over-excited rescuer; pick up the obstacle and hurl it at him. As I start up again he adopts a puzzled (or is it patronizing?), wrinkled-brow expression as if thinking 'Why is my uncle exhausting himself chasing the garden tractor when we all know mum's not in mortal peril. And she will return it to its stable later. And lock the door. It doesn't threaten her existence, nor ours - it'll still be tea-time when she's finished and she manages to feed us even when dizzy from riding the monster.'

What has this got to do with lorry drivers (see title) - specifically not wanting to be a lorry driver? Littlest announced in the car, on the way to school "I would rather be a lorry driver than a doctor. And I really don't want to be a lorry driver." Hmm ... do I have to point out the obvious? That her parents are not lorry drivers!

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Walking The Dog

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