Picnics, and how to protect them

Henry likes picnics.

That's all there is to it really. He loves people, almost everyone he meets loves him, and he adores food - especially food he's not meant to have. (Adds to the thrill - Henry).

Unfortunately, this means that no picnic (well almost no picnic) is safe while Henry is on the loose.

I made this unwelcome discovery a couple of months into owning him. I had just got to the stage of letting him off the lead, and my family had come to visit for the day so naturally we headed off for a walk on the beach. Lovely.

These days I scan the horizon for possible Henry hazards with an intensity that would put your average fighter pilot to shame, but back in the day I was foolishly relaxed, and was happily engaged in conversation with my relatives. Thus it was that I did not notice the innocent picnickers up ahead until the same moment Henry did. Henry shot towards them like a rocket, with absolutely no intention of returning until he had thoroughly checked out every piece of food in their possession and tested everything, presumably for food safety reasons.

Eventually he came back - and that's where I made my second mistake. I put him on the lead and walked up the beach and scrambled up a path in a relatively low cliff, at which point I thought it would be safe to let him off again.

I couldn't really make out what the irate picnickers were shouting as Henry went bouncing back to raid their picnic for the second time in ten minutes, but I think we can safely assume it was not complimentary.

These days Henry adopts a more subtle approach to picnic raiding. It's less a sledgehammer now, and more a surgical strike.

His tactic is as follows - gambol up to the picnickers (or marks as he calls them - I think he's been watching Hustle) and make nice with them. Most people are quite pleased to see a cute spaniel heading their way, and are initially charmed. While they are busy making googly noises, lean casually over and dip into their picnic basket. The soundtrack to this smooth move generally starts off something like 'Awwwwwwwww' before rapidly turning into an 'Arrrrrggghhhhhh!' as the hapless food donors realise the ulterior motive behind this visit. Shortly after that is normally when I arrive, puffing and panting, red in the face and burbling apologies as I tackle my dog and remove him from the crime scene. Sadly Henry's picnic detection mechanisms are far more sensitive than my own, which leads to several embarrassing incidents each summer.

There are several defence mechanisms to try in the face of this one-dog canine crime wave. You could attempt a flying leap, like the lady on the beach who tripped and fell flat on her face as she dashed back to save her picnic from the marauding wretch. Fortunately her own dog saved the day that time - Labs aren't too keen on sharing picnics with random spaniels, and Henry left with a flea in his ear.

However only one has ever proved effective. The one picnic Henry sheered away from was the one being conducted by several hardy naturists on Holkham beach earlier this year. Which is a good job really, because they were on their own as far as I was concerned...