The dog yipped which I decided to take as an affirmation.
"I wish I knew. I have no talent for staying on the lead either."
Sir Sebastian it would seem had had enough of my wearying conversation, he nipped my hand rather hard causing me to drop him.
Twenty minutes later
I have lost the bloody dog again.
I really must watch my 'bloodies' lest they escape my mind and come out my mouth. That would be a wonderful thing to add to my list of failings: curses like a mule driver. I suppose I shouldn't impinge upon the honor of all mule drivers, but it was a mule driver who first introduced me to the word and I have loved it ever since that first, "Get out of the bloody way."
Though I suppose using obscenities would hardly be a failing at all compared to LOSING THE BLOODY DOG. Seriously, Lizzy, focus on the matter at hand. I must find the bloody dog before he runs out in front of a bloody mule team and becomes a bloody stain on the cobbles.
"Sir Sebastian!" I don't know why I bother. I have been calling his name from the moment I dropped him and he has yet to return. My throat is raw. Bl—ruddy raw.
Suddenly a gentleman appeared on the path before me. Neither his high spirits nor good looks seemed to be dampened by the wet weather, for he was smiling charmingly at me as if he were elated to see me even though I had not the slightest idea who he was.
"Ha, I have found you at last," he declared. Turning around he called down the path, "Over here, Farthingham, I have found my sprite."
I stood there, baffled as yet another man appeared, this one slightly less handsome and considerably less affable. "Wonderful, now may we return to our purpose," he said clearly unimpressed with his companion's discovery.
The smiling man ignored him returning his attention to me, "Why have you been calling for me, madam?"
"I haven't been calling for you."
"You most certainly have. Farthingham thought I was running mad, hearing wood sprites calling my name. But I have found you and you are quite real, though just as enchanting as any fae I assure you."
Finally I understood. "You are Sir Sebastian."
The gentleman bowed. "Sir Sebastian Seymour, at your service, madam."
"I'm sorry, I was looking for Sir Sebastian Shivershanks," I said stupidly.
"Who on earth is he?" asked the human Sir Sebastian clearly miffed at having found hewas not the sole of bearer of his namesake.
"He is a dog."
The previously disgruntled Farthingham burst into laughter.
"A dog?" repeated Sir Sebastian, with credulity bordering on outrage. Farthingham laughed all the harder.
"Yes, I have lost him. He is a terrier mixture, light brown and white, docked tail. If you call out 'Sir Sebastian' and he runs determinedly in the opposite direction you can be certain it is he, though I haven't the slightest clue as to why I am describing him as he is most likely the only dog you are likely to come across as I am certainly the only fool who would be walking a dog in such weather."
"I think we've just been called fools," said Sir Sebastian to his friend.
"Not a new experience for you, I'm sure," replied Farthingham.
"I believe I only called those walking dogs fools. I am sure it is perfect weather for whatever you are doing. What are you doing?" They were both carrying what looked like opera glasses a fact I had up till now ignored there being so many other remarkable things about this situation.
Seeing my gaze Sir Sebastian Seymour held up the instrument he was carrying. "With these you mean? Bird watching."
"Bird watching?"
"The object is to watch birds in their natural surroundings," explained Farthingham patronizingly.
Oddly, I had surmised that much for myself.
"I have yet to comprehend if he is intentionally obtuse and enjoys being a condescending jackass or if he really has no understanding of basic human interaction. Yes, we are watching birds. In this weather. It was his idea," said Sir Sebastian.
