On one of the days that I went up to Paris, I left Biff home alone - a very rare occurrence. Before anyone reports me to the RSPCA, I must clarify that friends very kindly went in three times to walk him, one of them for two hours midday. Here he is, gambolling happily in the autumn sunshine and playing his stick trick - he hasn't quite got the hang of dropping it at your feet; instead he's hoping that someone will chase him.
Arriving home early evening, I tapped on the window expecting an amazingly joyous reception - a little black dog bouncing off sofas, triple somersaults, rolling on his back with his paws in the air etc Every dog owner feels they have right to this kind of reception, even if they've only stepped out for five minutes. Biff however, took his time coming to meet me. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he came slinking into the hallway, trying to look like he wasn't that bothered that I was home. But he couldn't hide his true feelings. His little bobbly tail gave him away, wagging uncontrollably.
Two years ago I hung up my high heels, put the Prada handbags into storage and left behind my fashionable West London life to renovate an old village house in rural France. Et voila. This blog is about what happened next....
It's always a pleasure to walk Biff, and to help help out a friend. He is as good as gold with me, a real pal. I think its because I have known him since you first aquired him mimi. lol