Stop/Start/Stop/Start/STOP!

A cautionary comment by the vet and a more definite pronouncement by the physiotherapist has resulted in the GPS being loaded up with the coordinates of those wee hidden plastic tubs.   Once more The Fatdog and I have made an enforced retreat from lofty summits to somewhat more sedate terrain.  Geocaching is back in vogue here at The Fatdog Broadcasting Corporation.

The vet reckoned FD (now 8 years old) should be taking things a bit easier than rampaging up and down steep mountains.  More worryingly he took one look at me, shook his head and reached under a black cloth to pull out an ominous looking syringe.  I hobbled out of the surgery before he could do the humane thing, The Fatdog close on my heels.

A further setback was encountered at my final “back class” where the physio strenuously suggested my hillwalking exploits were more than my sorry carcase could cope with.  When I mentioned my most recent ailment, a narsty pain in my left knee (prevalent on steep descents) he took one look at me, shook his head and reached under a black cloth to pull out an ominous looking syringe…

With both recent health reports suggesting an accelerated route to the glue factory should FD and I not mend our wayward hillwalking ways, I have conceded defeat and am in the process of modifying our walking plans (for the nth time).