Sometimes, I think Mme V is crraaazy. Other times, I know it for sure. With three dogs of her own, she first took on Mr Charlton, brother to my own Mr Heston. She even wanted him more because he looked a bit runty and a bit sad. To be fair, I was easy and could have had either. She could have had my handsomeness and I could have had her “special” runt of the litter. She could have had a lovely, loyal little baby and I could have had her good-tempered sweetheart who seemed to be at the back of the brains queue.
That wasn’t enough. Oh no. Four dogs, four cats and two chatty parrots is not enough for a woman. She started fostering puppies in need of permanent homes for a couple of local charities. The prospect of 12 lab cross puppies didn’t frighten her earlier in the year, though they all found homes very quickly. First came Milly and Molly, now happily with their full time adopters, and then Boss, Brut and Coco, three hot little bundles of furry love.
Into this mélange, I took Heston and Tilly on my little July staycation. Heston and Charlton have Houdini dreams. Charlton only has to get a sniff of an open gate and he’s off in search of marvellous fun in the land-beyond-home. He thinks it’s a wonderful game. Heston is also an escape artist and until I had my fence fixed earlier in the year, he would regularly trot off up the road. To this end, they go on walks together from time to time and they have play dates. Inside playdates where they cannot escape and go off together in search of joyous Littlest Hobo magic moments.
The lovely thing about watching them play is how even they are with each other. They wrestle. They do dog ju-jitsu. They maul about on the floor. They do a kind of doggie capoeira, practising their moves. Then they rest a bit. They rested quite a lot this weekend: 37°C will do that to a dog. Of course, now Heston is back here, he is depressed and has taken to his bed. I think a long walk is in order later!