I was walking to the left a bit and hence always bashing my left toe.
Ouch! Being a bit of a naturist, I really hate that. It hurts like hell and generally draws blood.
Several years ago, I and my dogs were taking a short sabbatical up in the
Parc d'Vercour. We had pitched a bivouac in a place that the dogs were obviously less than enthusiastic about, So, when I stood on a thistle, I was absolutely positive they were laughing at me.
It was shortly after that that we met our first wolf: We had come across some scat which, being both a dog handler and a bit of a gastronome, I was very interested to notice contained shell fragments from the
Escargot de Bourgogne. Because of it's constituency, a bit watery, I thought the scat was from a malnourished dog. Though, given there were no people in the vicinity, in retrospect this was a bit naive.
My dogs were a team of police trained, high security/military guard dogs and this was the first chance I had had for quite a while to let them off the leash. So, there we were, walking along through the forest, when suddenly, their noses go down and they take off into the forest only to reappear a few seconds later chasing the wolf towards me!
When it passed me, it was so close I could have touched it. Both my dogs and the wolf gave me reproachful looks: The wolf, which was female, seemed to be saying:
"Get your bloody dogs under control!", While my female dog seemed to think I should have shot her, my
toutou dog, on the other hand, was of a more nuanced opinion: Yes, he expected me to shoot her, but he was also, most definitely, enamoured. Even years later, if we hadn't been out in the wilds for a while, he would eat escargot and reminisce about
la belle de la foret.