Earlier this week, while walking Biff around the villlage square, a little black dog tried to attach himself to us, following in our wake until Biff growled at him to back off. The poor little creature - who didn't have a collar and looked like he'd been abandoned - subsequently appeared outside our house several times, looking increasingly hungry and unhinged.
Yesterday, feeling sorry for Basil (as I had nicknamed him) I tried to invite him in for a good meal and a bowl of water. Unfortunately, Biff was having none of it and morphed into a pitt bull style attack dog. Poor Basil ran out of the house - stopping to cock his leg in the hallway as he left - and hasn't been seen since.
But this afternoon, in the local cafe, I bumped into my neighbour Paulette, who told me the happy news that little Basil has been reunited with his maitre.
Meanwhile, a second Biff-sized black dog has been spotted running around the village, looking lost. Where are all these black Biff-alikes coming from I wonder?
Note to friends: yes I know that two dogs are more of a bind than one; and yes, I agree that Biff wouldn't appreciate another set of paws parked on the sofa. So I will be following your advice and I won't be adopting a Biff-a-like anytime soon.
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....
Thankyou. Good to hear from you, even with no meaningful news.