Bhub and Sofeee . The strawberry lady knows the pups by name. So too does the waitress at the cafe under the arcades. The same goes for the more sober of the beer and absinthe set and the two cheese ladies at the Sunday market. Strange that both cheese ladies should have been diagnosed with cancer at the same time . Each of them now fully recovered but carefully wrapped up against the morning chill in thick scarves and sweaters. For Bob and Sophie crumbs of Salers from the first , the tiniest sliver of Gouda from the second.
Shopping done we head home. The little angels are bathed. Bob accepts his lot in silence. Sophie squeals and squirms. Their noses washed to remove a fortnights worth of ingrained mud. Then they are groomed. Sophie adores the attention , Bob loathes it.
By lunchtime they both look as though they could do with a bath.