Torpitude.

We decline the offer of Brie with apricots and nuts. Bob gets a piece of Salers. His tail goes into overdrive, then he does his happy dance. To the uninitiated this must look as if he's having a seizure while simultaneously being poked with an electric cattle prod. He shows his overbite. I'm pleased to get him out of the shop and in the back of the car before he does the happy howl that accompanies the dance. 

Sophie has had the hair over her eyes trimmed. PON purists would be aghast. We however find that when she can see she's much more relaxed and less prone to those 'diva' moments. This good for both dog and owners.

Bob spends his day sitting at the front door behind the curtain. He braves the heat to rush out and bark at the post lady, the annoying eight year old child who rattles a stick against the gate and a group of Belgian pilgrims en route to Lourdes. For the rest of the day all that can be seen of him is a large black nose peaking out.

Such is the hectic pace of life for two PONs in a French village rapidly descending into summer torpitude.