Seven minutes past midnight. Angus becomes aware that a male PON is sitting silently by the bedside. Two amorous cats are canoodling on the doorstep. Bob is wondering what I intend to do about it. Finally, he wanders off into the darkness to guard alone. Thank heavens for sheepdog commitment. His tail thwack-thwack-thwacks against the furniture as he leaves.
This morning the PONs are waiting for Angus to take them on their early morning walk. It should be pointed out that they are waiting but they're not waiting patiently. Bobs tail is still waving.
Bobs hair is showing the first , almost imperceptible, signs of turning grey. He'll be 5 on January 9th. That must be 35 in human years. '' Like master, like dog " says The Font delphically when this is pointed out.
'The Font' is still cutting back the roses. The more they're pruned the more they bloom.
Bob and Angus discuss the royal wedding . President Obama wants to attend . So does his successor. Angus thinks being a protocol officer must be the worst job in the world. Bob thinks a cat herder might be worse .
This morning the display of cakes at the cafe rather humdrum. Angus gets a coffee. His shaggy companions share a bowl of water and some croissant scraps.
France Musique is in festive mood. The radio announcer describes this piece ( at the 1:20 mark ) as the most theatrical tune ever written. He could be right :
I knew this about De Gaulles daughter but not realized he's laid to rest beside her. There's something about the incongruity of this photo - the hat on the beach, the tie and the loving interplay between the two that gives it warmth and charm .Never judge a book by its cover there is nuance in the pages: https://twitter.com/fenlandgent/status/934856055162589186