Arriving at Canapress on Saturday morning, I thought Christmas had come early. Waiting for me on the door step, a bowl of dog food. And not just your boring old dried stuff. No, nice fresh juicy meaty chunks, the sort of stuff I almost never get from Gail.
But then I start to sniff around. Something's up. I recognise the smell. It's Fudge, a pretty Jack Russell lassie who's always bouncing around in the company of tall Dutchman Arran. Gail opens the front door and inside the house, everything's changed. Where did all this extra furniture come from? Arran and Fudge have been in here, and other folk too. Why is Gail not bothered? Can't she tell that our nice quiet home has been invaded?
Well, it's all too much to take in. At least there's a comfy new rug on the sofa, so I jump up there and have a little nap whilst Gail busies herself in the garden.
After dark, they arrive. I thought as much. It's Arran, Fudge, a puppy called Nell and finally a lady by the name of Jo. They're acting like they live here. It slowly dawns on me that perhaps they do. Now I remember, Arran stayed at Canapress once before. Seems like he's returned with an entourage.
I've always rather liked Fudge, but she's not being friendly at all this evening. Well to be honest, I don't have much of a knack with the opposite sex. Gail says she knows how I feel.
Next morning Arran goes out and arrives home with a baby. Whatever next? How many more?
When one gets older, adapting to change is exhausting. For once I'm looking forward to the peace and predictability of life back at Devanha Gardens.
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