I have reached an agreement with Tosca - a walk to suit her, not very far, and not very fast, before I go out with Flossie. She can then settle down on the windowsill or her bed, knowing that I'm going somewhere without her. She, ever the reluctant walker, seems happy with this arrangement.
Yesterday Flossie and I went out with Lizzie and her dogs to the highest point on Exmoor.
The view unfolded as we climbed.
A slow climb, stony but not strenuous, up Dunkery Hill, to this:
The renowned Dunkery Beacon.
It was difficult to get a picture that didn't have anorak-clad walkers standing on the beacon itself or slowly eating sandwiches at its base, surrounded by our hopeful dogs.
Despite Lizzie's efforts ("Stay! Stay!") it wasn't easy to get a picture of the dogs all together either - too much to explore, too much racing around to be done.
There seemed to be no thorny gorse to halt a bounding dog in its tracks, so there was much joyously-free galloping, wheeling, tumbling, stopping to drink from hidden pools. Those three dogs must have run miles for about an hour, non-stop, ears, tongues and tails flying.
From the top, there is a breathtaking panoramic view, captured by Lizzie on her own blog.
Other than the sound of panting dogs, there were moments of utter silence.
Although I'm slowly getting a grasp of the geography of this area, I had only a limited idea of what we were looking at, or which county it was in, but it was all beautiful; there in the distance was Selworthy church, and Periwinkle Cottage.
On the way down, we startled a small herd of deer, too fast to take decent pictures of - I have to admit that I'm finding hard to get used to the long lens.
And then home, via Wootton Courtenay. More wonderful views, hastily snatched from the car window.
Home again. Time for me to light the stove, make a cup of tea, read the paper, and for Flossie to have a long and well-earned sleep. Tosca was just glad that she didn't have to come with us.