Dogs have an incredible sense of smell.  They not only take in smells by breathing inwards but they also take in smells when they breathe out.  The scents they pick up are stored in their brains, every scent they ever smell from a puppy to an old dog are stored and they are recognised throughout their lives.

Pickle was trapped in a work-mans van. Think of all the different, strong smells inside this van, all the tools, the paints, cement, shovels, The scent of every person who had entered this van, their lunch boxes, their sweat and their clothes.  I could write a huge list but I think you get the jest of where this is going.

As they drove through Kent, onto the M25. the M1 and all the way to Liverpool, Pickle was able to pick up hundreds, ney thousands of different scents from outside as well as inside this van.  They passed through towns, the countryside, lakes, rivers, houses, gardens, garages, railway lines and stations, to name a few.  Pickle had obviously picked up the scents of everything that they passed, which enabled him to find his way home.  So, how did he survive, such a long, arduous journey.

Here's how it all happened in Pickles words:

I've scratched at the front door, I've scratched at the back door,  I've barked as loudly as I can,  and no-one is letting me in. Now it's started to rain-GREAT- I need to find shelter.  I know, I'll go and see the workmen, they will take pity on me. No-one around, where the hell is everyone. I am getting soaked and no-body cares.  The back of John's van is open, yippee, a bag of rags! yep this will do, I am an expert bed maker,  so if I drag these rags under that bench...Ahh comfort and a well deserved snooze. Who is this rocking me, no hands, no lap, just this motion of rocking, ah, I remember now. This van is rocking, oh well, back to sleep. I am hungry now, must be dinner time and I can smell burgers, fish and chips, a butchers shop, sweet smell of flowers, fields, so many smells and I am stuck inside this smelly old van. I can hear and smell John, HEY JOHN, JOHN. Why is he ignoring me? What a din, he is singing, no wonder the fool can't hear me.

Now I am starving and bored. The rocking has stopped and I can't hear a thing,  All I can find is shovels, cement, tools, boxes of stuff but nothing to eat and now I am thirsty.  I may as well sleep.

This is getting worse, I can smell bacon. I think I have been here forever and I want my breakfast and bowl of water. Hello, hello the door is opening at last breakfast. Whooo, freedom, the perfect tree for a pee,  but where the hell am I? 

To be continued