Returning Riley
Cally huffed and puffed as she walked up the steep slope, glad to spot level ground ahead which signalled the end of her lung-busting ascent. Her dog, Fred, trotted amiably along in front, stopping occasionally to sniff, and c**k his leg up trees and plants. He didn’t seem in the least concerned about the gradient they’d just climbed.
“Jammy sod,” Cally grumbled, aiming the comment at the wiggling canine bottom. Its owner remained completely oblivious to the mild insult thrown its way. “You’ve got four bloody legs. I’ve only got two.”
On reaching the flat area at the end of the track, she stepped onto it with a sigh of relief, then stopped and grabbed her water from her backpack. She drank her fill, then stowed the bottle away. She was just reaching for Fred’s collapsibl
