Six in the morning. Bobs tail thwacks against the kitchen cabinets as he waits, impatiently, for me to put on my shoes. His equally impatient sister stands by his side.
I open the front door and the angelic duo head out into the garden. Sophie hurtles fearlessly into the darkness. Her brother follows on behind. Angus switches on the lights along the drive and heads of after them, black bags in one hand, a torch in the other. A dog owners routine.
Loic, the gardener, arrives to blow leaves. He is now on a routine of one injection a day. The departmental hospital has called him for three more days of tests on his diabetes. They've checked his arms, legs, eyes and feet and are now going to check out the rest of him. Loic likes going to the hospital. '' I have my own room and the food is really good ". Loic, being one of Gods special children, is the only person I've ever heard say hospital food is good. He then informs me that they're going to put a tube down his throat but adds brightly " Don't worry. I'll be asleep !" What price innocence ?
Loic blows leaves into piles. When we return from our walk the PONs will joyfully demolish his handiwork. Loic will look at them, heads deep in the leaves and laugh.
Just another day in deepest, deepest France profonde with two happy sheepdogs.