South Of The Border

View from I-95, South Carolina, USA

Not the questionable roadside tourist trap in South Carolina with kitschy Mexican trinkets. You’re forgiven for thinking that, but no, if you have ever spent time in Scotland you will know that England is referred to as ‘South of the Border’. This was our next destination.
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Exhausted in a really good way from Edinburgh and the Fringe Festival, we were on our way to The Cotswolds. In the southern part of England, about 85 miles northwest of London, it is an area of considerable beauty. With its rolling countryside, quaint villages and small town charm it is easy to see why it is home to members of the Royal Family including the future king, Prince Charles, and his sister, The Princess Royal. This was going to be our first house sit in England since we started our journey, or so we thought at the time. At the last minute we received a  call from our family. You see, my brother and his wife had been invited to France for a few days. They asked if we could make a short detour to look after their dog.

With a few days to spare until we needed to be in Gloucestershire for our Cotswolds stay, we had no problem making this diversion. We were excited to look after this Segugio hunting hound they had rescued in Italy a few years earlier. He is a great dog: friendly, engaging, and generally quiet. That is until he sniffs a leash and the scent of a walk. At that very second the curtain goes up and his outdoor performance begins. Have you ever accidentally stepped on a dog’s paw? You know that piercing yelp they make? Usually, that awful sound stops as soon as you lift off the pressure. Now imagine going on a 60 minute walk through town with that same sound going on the whole time while the hound darts from side to side, up and down grass banks, howling as loud as possible, and hunting for who knows what. That’s him. Now I am exaggerating a little but he is definitely not an early Sunday morning dog unless you hate the neighbors. When passers-by smile at you and mutter to each other “Oh, it’s that dog again”, or when the old lady goes “Tut tut” under her breath while rolling her eyes in Victorian-era disbelief, you just have to keep walking by, eyes forward and humming to yourself in an oblivious state of mind. Aside from that, he is absolutely adorable.

The Cotswolds, Gloucestershire, England

After handing him off to his next house sitter we had just a few hours to make the trip to Northleach. As we drove through small country lanes and came into the Market Square that was to be home for the next eleven days, the natural beauty of this part of England became evident. We arrived at the front door of a beautiful old stone house that had been renovated but kept all its charm with different staircases, little nooks and crannies and an Aga! This was classic countryside England at its best. It was all there: the little local post office, the village shop, the two pubs, even the takeaway restaurant. People said good morning or good afternoon to you as you walked down the street. And, for most of the days that we were there, the sun was even shining.

Continuing our new found equality of looking after both cats and dogs at the same time, we would foster a beautiful one-year-old golden labrador, Frank, and his two feline house companions, The Littlest and Riddance. We had been told upon our arrival that Riddance was shy and that we may not see him for a while. But after a few days of only being able to send photos of Frank and The Littlest, and just assuming Riddance existed because his food and water bowl were depleting each day, I had to dispatch Blair to search and discover whether the cat was actually real. Eventually, with a little contortion of the body, his camera found a pair of eyes under a bed staring back. That was Riddance.

The Riddance under a bed

Littlest, never shy

The Littlest, on the other hand, was evident most the time. Purring, nudging for treats, sleeping on, and occasionally discovered in, the bed. The strangest thing though is that the best treat this cat could be given comprised a few pieces of Frank’s dried dog food. Milk for the cat? Not really, as in “Why would you expect me to drink that?”  Dog food? “Yes please, may I have more?”

One of the great things about staying in a small town like Northleach is that open countryside, field after field, is right on your doorstep. There are few things more quintessentially English than being in the open field with your dog, and your thoughts, and some beautiful views. Nobody appreciated this more than Frank, or me for that matter to purge my guilt of the cream teas abundantly available nearby.

During one of our twice daily walks

Off the lead as soon as it was safe, he would charge off, burning his puppy energy, running through streams, greeting fellow dogs and retrieving various items as his breed is meant to do. And it is that last activity that I, as someone who grew up primarily in a city, could happily have missed. You see, when I think of a retriever I have an image of a dog with a ball, or a stick, or even a toy in its mouth. Yes, we got some of those but also a dead rabbit and my favorites, the UFOs, or unidentifiable field objects which were also mostly dead. Luckily, retrievers just retrieve, and even he got bored with the rabbit after a while when I showed no interest.

Frank outside

​It was much more fun for him when, as was often the case, I would chase him around the house trying to recover stolen items. At only one-year-old Frank was still combining his instincts with his training. He had a habit of finding objects that you really didn’t need at the moment, but he also knew you wouldn’t want him to have it, which inevitably led to a chase through the house. Shoes, remotes, the mail, cat food, everything had to go above dog height. We could have charged admission to his graveyard of destroyed stuffed animals.

Frank inside

Stunning setting, lovely house, fun pets, it was an incredible house sit. No there wasn't the excitement of some of the other places but being on the road constantly you sometimes forget to sit back and bring your the energy level down for a while. Always racing  around to see things and do things becomes really tiring. Sometimes you need a place where you can just relax, binge watch the Olympics, and take leisurely strolls through the countryside. No attractions, no events, no stress, a place that just feels like home for a little while.​​

Like all good things though our downtime in Northleach came to an end. But our timing could not have been more perfect for a period of relaxation because our next trip would be the most exotic and intense so far. We were headed to Asia.

Farewell, England

Photo of South of the Border © 2004 Sullynyflhi via Wikimedia Commons

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