5:51 am. Bob comes to wake me up and tell me its rained overnight. A cold wet nose is positioned in my ear. Satisfied I'm awake he retreats from the ( strictly out of bounds ) bedroom and settles down on a rug in the hallway. His tail thwack-thwack-thwacks against the floor tiles. This morning, for no apparent reason, he also emits an almost inaudible high pitched whistle. When I venture out of the door he stands up, does his soft shoe shuffle, trips over his legs and falls over with excitement. All our dogs have been happy dogs but Bob is something special. Can't be all bad to be four and a half years old and start each day in the sure and certain knowledge that it's going to be the best day ever. Enthusiasm undimmed.
After a high speed tour of the garden in search of c-a-t-s or s-q-u-i-r-r-e-l-s there's time for a brief pause in the days excitement. Sophie glares at the collared doves who have the audacity to treat the garden as if they own it.
On Sunday we are going to a restaurant that serves lampreys. They are a specialty of the region and 'The Font' is keen to try them. Angus will have the trout. These locals catch them in the river : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeDdgM_HyGA