A Mascot’s Tale

I was found lying on a country road, in Cornwall, on my face and in the mud.

Not a very dignified pose, I’d say, certainly below the dignity of any proper animal.

So a kind stranger propped me on a wall in front of a house to see if anyone claimed me. They didn’t so he took me home, cleaned me up, and adopted me as his mascot. 

I must have been too fierce for anyone else.

Here I am resting after my journey.

My new people took me on adventures like the South Coast footpath:

and the sea:

This is by a town called “Mazel” and spelled “Mousehole.” Isn’t that a funny name? I didn’t see any mice.

I had a cold drink on one hot afternoon. That ginger-ale tasted so good. It’s no wonder that it’s by appointment to the Prince of Wales.

They also took me up into the hills – which I now know aren’t very high in Cornwall – but they seemed it at the time.

Finally they took me to the airport. Here I’m watching the activity on the runway.

and here I’m posing in front of the plane we flew on.

It was a good thing they didn’t stuff me in the luggage because that didn’t fly with us.

I’ll add more about my adventures in my new home later.