The pocket rocket has chomped his way through the lush pasture at his foster home and sunk his teeth into the backsides of several builders, so for the time being, while grass grows and bruises heal he has returned to Rock HQ.
Its strange people reaction when they see you walking a shitland, they do an everso comedic double take when they realise the four legged beast is an equine not a large canine. Old ladies cross the road to pet the brute, and if they are lucky cross back with all their fingers and nothing missing from their shopping bags.
Trevor and yours truly took the high road, for one devoid of mare temptresses.
Trev decided on a snooze at the halfway point
then took a keen interest in local tourist lures, in this case the whet stone.
For a change he behaved all the way over and once back at HQ quickly rekindled old flames and by the lloks Misty has forgiven his wanderlust.