Welcome to "Man with two dogs" - the family website for dog owners and dog walkers.

EACH YEAR, about mid-September, I start looking into the skies above the house for the first of the ragged chevrons of pinkfeet and greylag geese reaching the end of their annual migration from their Arctic summer breeding grounds, just as their ancestors have done for a thousand years.

The Doyenne and I are back after a break in Crumble Cottage, in Cartmel, not far from Morecambe Bay – so, Lake District. Why Crumble, you ask? Our hosts grow rhubarb and make lots of rhubarb crumble and the name just evolved spontaneously.

YOU CAN’T have your head in the clouds all the time when you’re out walking dogs or, before you know it, you’ve tripped on an old twisted root and fallen flat on your face. I certainly spend a lot of my time looking into the sky and all around me but, whiles, it pays to keep an eye on what’s going on beneath my feet.

A SACK of Shakings is the title of a book of reminiscences by author Frank T. Bullen from the glory days of sailing ships. The expression refers to an assortment of odds and ends of rope and canvas accumulated during a sailing voyage which were the perquisites of the chief mate (second-in-command after the Master). I had a copy but, as is the fate of many books, I’ve lent it and forgotten who the borrower was.