Webbed Feet

It's got to be the wettest winter on record.  Me and 'Her Idoors' are resigned to getting soaked every morning. It's just as well I got a waterproof coat for my birthday. At my age, you can't be too careful. 'Her Indoors' isn't exactly in the first flush of youth so I'm sure all this rain isn't good for her either. Still, she did get a new pair of walking boots in the January sale as the old ones were leaking. I don't have boots of course and I'm beginning to wish I had webbed feet like some of the retrieving breeds. It would be more appropriate. Our morning walks now include a check of all the local water courses to see what state they're in. One of our regular lanes has flooded right across and the drainage ditch into which it flows is doing a passable impression of Niagara Falls.  I'm not saying our garden is wet, but if the Mallards from last Spring came back now, they'd feel right at home. Still, the house is bearing up well - that's one advantage of living on a ridge - and 'Him Indoors' hasn't started building an Ark quite yet. I wouldn't want to share my living space with a load of other animals anyway.  And there's always a spell on the sofa in front of the wood burner to dry off any lingering dampness. I like to look on the bright side, which is probably just as well.