I had been recommended to take Rummage to a woman in Guildford who ran dog training classes. After my scare on Wimbledon Common I was, at the time, using a flexi extending lead which I found useful so Rummage could scamper around on a walk without actually running off. I duly arrived at the Training Venue and went off in search of the trainer. She was I would guess in her late forties, a buxom woman with a ruddy complexion wearing Tweed, and after exchanging pleasantries she commanded me to “Fetch your Dog”. No sooner was Rummy out of the car and the trainer saw the extending lead I was castigated for using something “which does not give complete control” and given a slip lead to use instead. We were then marched into a paddock which was fenced with pig wire. She turned to me with the command “Release your dog”. I faltered a bit at her abrupt manner, but I meekly asked if the paddock was secure as Rummage would find a hole if there was one. “Of course it is secure” she said “This is a dog training paddock, it has to be secure”. And so “I released my dog”. Rummage is an highly skilled operator and I don’t think it took her more than ten seconds to see the hole in the fence. She darted straight across the paddock and was through the gap and out into the drive before the trainer could actually grasp what had just happened. “Stay there” she barked at me as she tore off through the gate into the drive, shouting commands. Rummage was not listening to “Commands” she was having a great time rounding up the ducks and the guinea fowl that were conveniently grazing on the grass verge of the drive. She then herded them out of the gate and into the road. We were on the outskirts of Guildford on the busy A31 so this was a very dangerous situation and I was now terrified that Rummage would get run over. The trainer with her two helpers was racing down the drive and tweed skirt and jacket disappeared out of view. It seemed like a lifetime, but it wasn’t long before she returned, looking somewhat dishevelled, with Rummage gripped tightly under her arm. “You should have told me she’s an escape artist” she said through gritted teeth. Feeling somewhat empowered by her attitude I took hold of Rummage, popped her on her extended lead and looking the exasperated trainer straight in the eye demanded a full refund of her fee. Grudgingly she agreed and we never went back.