A second drawing I did, based on our adventurous walk through the Yorkshire mud. I did a bunch of thumbnail sketches of ideas after that traumatizing experience, and I was happy enough with two of them that you’re getting another muddy dog.

In short, whilst visiting my mother-in-law’s friend, an 86-year-old Yorkshire lass, we went on a walk. What we didn’t realize is that we’d be crossing the bog of eternal stench. Halfway through a field, the way became narrow and muddy. Sucking, oozing, drag-you-down-and-devour-you mud.

I would lead the mum-in-law through a patch, carefully avoiding thistles to the left and a drop to the right with the aforementioned sucking mud down the middle. Every time, I felt we must be on the last deadly part of the trail. But things just continued to get worse, and we went through no fewer than 6, and probably more, very difficult patches. The wife’s mother is 82, so good on her for making it, even with my help.

The moral? Never trust a Yorkshire lass. She was probably trying to sacrifice us to some ancient bog god.