Dog

Well, I'm happy to say that Mum is considerably better today, thank goodness. Thanks for all your good wishes.




Also we had a visit from Daughter 1 and Grandson, which improves any day.

He's coming up for ten months; she'll be ninety on Wednesday.

When I took him and Daughter 1 home, I picked him up from his car seat, shifted him to my left arm and turned back to the right to pick up the seat with the other hand. About ten seconds, at most, had passed since I'd last looked in that direction but now there was a large dog comfortably settled in the footwell of the seat where Grandson had been sitting. I was somewhat surprised. The dog must have come along the street towards the front of the car and ducked under the open door while I was transferring Grandson from arm to arm. I looked at the dog. He was a fluffy sort of Lassie-sized, black and white chap. "Where are we going now?" he enquired.

I looked about for his owner. The street was empty apart from us.

"I've got a dog!" I said to Daughter 1 and Son-in-Law. They came and inspected him. They're both allergic to dogs. "You can't stay there," said Daughter 1 to the dog.

"Can't see why not," replied the dog, settling more firmly down.

He looked friendly enough but I couldn't see myself hauling him bodily out.

"Come on, boy," I said in my teacher's voice - firm but fair. "Out you get."

The dog shrugged. "Oh, all right then." He climbed out and then spied a large plastic bottle top, which he brought to Daughter 1, wagging his tail expectantly.

We didn't feel we could just go inside and leave him, so we spent some minutes throwing the bottle top (us) and fetching it (him). We hoped that someone would come looking for him. After a while we noticed a collar and disc among his fluff: Patch and a phone number. Daughter 1 phoned the number. No reply. More throwing and fetching. Then, thank goodness, a woman with a similarly large fluffy dog appeared round the corner, calling "Patch!" Relief all round. She'd been walking the dogs in the nearby park when a motor bike had startled him - he was knocked down by a motor bike last year - and he'd run away.

He was a very jolly dog but I can just imagine the cats' faces if he'd come home with me. Which he almost did - I could easily have shut the car door without noticing him happily reclining on the floor.