The builders arrive next week . Angus is cajoled into visiting the hardware store. Time , he is told, to choose taps . The pups first trip down the motorway. They sleep all the way to the Leroy Merlin car park. What a name for a store . Sounds more like a Louisiana Blues singer than a hardware outlet. Above the front door a big sign saying '' Open : Monday to Saturday 8 til 8 ". It opens a little after nine.
We use the time while we wait for the doors to open to walk Bob and Sophie round the parking lot. They enjoy this adventure tremendously. So much so that we have a rerun. The second time round the car park has filled up and there are more tyres to sniff. Angus sits in the back of the car with the tail gate open chatting to Sophie while ' the font ' texts pictures of taps from inside the store. This hi-tech system keeps all parties happy. Before we set off home the pups get a third brief walk. Bob christens the tyres of a maroon Peugeot 504. Given time he'll graduate to a Mercedes.
Sophie demolishes a flowerpot every night. On a good night she'll make it two . Bob continues in his quest for snails and worms . These have to be brought indoors to be fully savoured. We draw the line at bees. Both of them ignore the freshly cut lawn preferring to play in the thick mud around Monsieur Bozo's recently installed septic tank.
A new pizza parlour in town. This is the fifth in the three and half years we've been here. They open for a couple of months, discover there's no market, then close. This one offers ' quiche pizza '.
Six in the morning. Bob and Sophie are out in the garden. Yesterdays Le Monde in the process of being finely shredded by those razor sharp pirana teeth. Black bags in hand Angus finds himself following the little angels around while singing a one line ditty : '' How much poo can a little PON do ? ". The glorious days of puppy hood.
The pups spend their first month getting to know their new family.
The second month is spent working out how to spend every possible waking moment with their new best friends.
3.07 am Bob is woken from his sleep by heavy rain lashing against the window. He decides that as he's awake it would be a great idea for the whole family to get up and do something exciting together . That head back ' wo-oo-oo-oo-of ' yell of joy that PON owners get to know only too well. How can such small dogs make such an ear rending hullaballoo ?
' The font ' asks if I'm going to get up and see to 'my' dog. After ten minutes Bob falls back asleep. All puppies finally learn that excitement sometimes has to wait.
They get a handful of cake crumbs at the bakers this morning.
The very old farmer is sitting on the bench in the middle of the village green . Every morning as regular as clockwork, or as regularly as his angina will allow, he wanders over to the graveyard and sits by the side of his wife's tomb for an hours chat. '' Bonjour M'Ongoose. I've just been over measuring up my new house ". He points towards the graveyard as he says this.
'' Tu es sage " he says to Sophie . She moves closer so that she can get a tickle behind the ear. Bob gets stroked under his chin. Neither of them in the slightest bit alarmed by this strange figure . Some, a few, people alarm them and they shy away. Others , the majority, they accept without hesitation. Is it the self confidence of the human in question or something else ? The secrets of a dogs judgement.
Sophie sits in front of the oven watching two breakfast croissants warm up. Unblinking,immovable, nose almost to the glass. Quite convinced that she's stumbled across the secret place from whence all good things come .
Later in the day Sophie can again be found sitting in front of the oven. 'The font' works around her. Noix de Saint-Jacques roties meuniere, mouselline de chou-fleur vanillee, jus a l'orange reduit, huile verte. Sophie doesn't move from her position. She's staring fixatedly at the oven door waiting for the croissants to reappear.
With Sophie refusing to leave the kitchen Bob comes with me to the barbers. The first time brother and sister have ever been apart. A moments hesitation at the door as he moves from the sunshine of the street into the darkness of the salon. Inside three pensioners from the old folks home sitting on the sofa . They greet him. A fourth half dozing on the armchair doesn't notice. The barber springs to his feet - delighted to see a paying customer with hair.
Bob sits by the barbers chair. He's there for all of two minutes , then he's off exploring. Muzzle scratched by the three old farmers on the sofa. No hesitation from them, or him. They chat away as if chatting to an old friend. They're not embarrassed and neither is he. Last years magazines on the table sniffed. Bob cocks his head and looks at the fourth pensioner , who is now whistling in his sleep , then moves off to settle under the ailing aspidistra.
A young PON's most excellent adventure. He's chosen to settle in the self same spot where an old PON sat a year ago. Life continues. Bob knows that all is well with the world.
Our first full month together. Bob and Sophie thriving. Bob over eleven kilos, Sophie nudging ten. Bob a big happy lolloping boy. Derring-do on four legs. Sophie as smart as they come. Canny and quick witted. Necessary traits for making sure her big brother does what he's supposed to.The two of them as different in terms of temperament as chalk and cheese.
Our daily routine now settled to dog and owners satisfaction. Pirana teeth dealt with. The cast of characters in their story getting wider by the day. The waitress, the bakers wife, Madame Bay , the ladies of the kitchen committee. Socialization by croissant or McVities wholewheat digestive.
Sophie picks up a ceramic flower pot and carries it down the stairs from the upper terrace into the garden. She can put a paw through the hole in the end. Bob finds this fascinating. They play like this for an hour. Sophie sticking a paw through the hole and then pulling it back. Bob trying, unsuccessfully, to bite it. Doggedness. ' The font ' says '' I don't think I've ever seen anything as funny ". A statement that dog owners around the world will understand. Contentment and optimism - a side effect of living with natures jesters.
The Saint is supposed to leave the church at eight. Due to a breakfast of sangria followed by blue cheese and salmon vol au vents he and his followers finally get underway at nine thirty. A slightly dyspeptic cavalcade of horses, dogs, children, farmers and farmers wives weave slowly in the direction of the crossroads. Two guitarists, the accordion player / physiotherapist and a man with a trumpet lead the way. They play that old Saints Day classic ' Blue Spanish Eyes ' as they go.
Bob and Sophie sit spellbound . The horses a particular source of amazement. '' Blimey Sophie ! They're big dogs . Lucky for you I'm here ". Sophie looks less than convinced. On the village green Wally's giant lunchtime paella is beginning to bubble.
It's late by the time we make it to the bakers. No croissants left this morning. We emerge with a strawberry tart. At the cafe under the arcades the waitress saves the day with a bowl of fresh water and a quarter croissant. Two small PON's are extremely reluctant to get back in the car.
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Saturday afternoon. Preparations for the Saints Day are in full swing.
Wallys Giant Paella dish arrives on the village green. It's hoisted from the back of the local Peugeot dealers pick-up truck and manoeuvred into its place by the acacia tree. Wally, the mayor, the old farmer and the man in the luminescent yellow jacket all wave their arms and give advice. The hoist operator very sensibly ignores them all.
Madame mayor and the ladies of the catering committee are in the kitchen of the salle des fetes making sangria from the old red wine they found in the store cupboard in the basement. They are also making salmon and blue cheese vol au vents.
The little lady in the purple hat arrives at the front door of the rickety old farmhouse. She's come to borrow the step ladders. I carry them across to the church .They aren't long enough. An extendable ladder is needed. We discover the little lady in the purple hat doesn't like heights. She does the saints feet and the body, Angus ends up dusting the head.
Bob and Sophie watch as a stream of visitors come to the gate. The mayor wonders if we have a extension cable, Wally wants to know if there is any spare kindling for the fire , the man in the yellow luminescent jacket would like to borrow an allen key.
In the evening our first long walk through the market town. A chance for Bob and Sophie to get used to cars and crowds of people. Bob and Sophie enter into this adventure with gusto. Half an hour of tangled leads and stopping in unexpected places. ' The font ' thinks it went really well. Angus, who held the leads, has a nerve calming drink. Bob and Sophie chase moles in the garden.
While ' the font ' goes to the fishmongers Angus sits on the rear bumper with the tailgate open. Next to him two inquisitive furry faces peer out at the world beyond. A senior gentleman in beige car coat and beige peaked cap wanders over and starts up a conversation. '' Bonjour monsieur. Bonjour. May I ask what breed they are ? ". Another octogenarian gentleman is called over. '' Maurice. These puppies are Polish. Have you ever seen a Polish dog ? ". Three passing ladies with breakfast baguettes sticking out of their shopping bags pause and join in the conversation. '' Are they brother and sister ? What big feet they have ". Amid laughter Bob and Sophie lick fingers. You're never alone when travelling with a PON.
A six foot tall fibreglass squirrel and matching three foot fibreglass hazelnut have been installed in the middle of the roundabout next to the sunflower seed depot. Fitting street furniture for the world capital of nuts. As you approach the roundabout the squirrel suddenly looms over an oleander bush. A hint of Jurassic Park. Is Angus alone in thinking it looks ever so slightly menacing ?
Mid-afternoon. The two cows in the field across the lane manage to get out of their enclosure.The old widow, broom in hand, noisily shoos them away from the rose bushes that sprawl along her garden wall. Hugo, the bad tempered Maltese, growls from the garden of the house by the crossroads. For a while the cows wander contentedly back and forth before settling down to graze in the middle of the village green.Then they notice the floral displays in front of the church. Short work made of the geraniums. The white heather in our roadside pots follows. The cows pause for a while, resting their heads on the courtyard gates, contentedly sniffing the freshly cut grass beyond.
Bob and Sophie look at these two enormous beasts in amazement. '' Blimey ! They're big dogs ". Bob takes up his leader of the pack position, front and forward , Sophie behind. A defensive pose slightly spoilt by the soft toy Bob clutches in his mouth. To the sound of not so ferocious barking the cows saunter off down the ox track to drink at the stream . It is there that the 'bad' farmer and his youngest son intercept them and guide them home .
Bob and Sophie settle down for a post excitement sleep. Both of them kick and squeak as they dream. Can anything beat the adventures of puppyhood ? In the evening they've recovered and there's time and energy enough to chase moles. Excitement - deepest France profonde style.
Well mannered weather. It rains at night but is bright and sunny during the day. Perfect conditions for charging round and round the garden at high speed.
Twenty Latvian pilgrims en route to Santiago saunter along the lane on horseback. All in identical red hoodies. Bob and Sophie give each a high pitched yelp of welcome / warning. A sheepdogs territorial instincts already stirring. The horses ignore them. The pilgrims wave. Four of them stop to say hello to Bob and Sophie . Sophie graces them with a lick. Bob doesn't. Our canine guardians stay by the gate until the last of the pilgrims is safely out of sight.
Sophie's unspeakable habit seems to have been cured thanks to water pistol aversion therapy . Now all we have to worry about are those little pirana teeth that appear when she gets over excited.
The fancy builder comes when ' the font ' is out. His super shiny black Mercedes estate the size of Delaware. Angus would be much happier if he drove a beat up ten year old Renault. The builder confirms that the team will be starting on rebuilding the bathrooms on May 15th. '' Have you given any though to soap dishes ? " he asks. Angus can quite honestly claim that during his fifty seven years on the planet he has given absolutely no thought whatsoever to soap dishes .
Bob and Sophie act like little angels when the builder is here. They revert to normal the very second he leaves.
Strange weather. Snow in Spain. Cool and damp here. The ladies of the village fleuri committee are out en masse tidying up the village green ahead of Sundays Saints Day procession .
The mayor had hoped that the village might win an award in this years beautiful villages competition. This now looks unlikely. The very old farmer has decided that his front garden is to be left to grow wild . A decision designed to rile his arch nemesis in the town hall. The very old farmer still believes that during the last heatwave the mayor sold the government supplied bottled water that was rightly his.
So it is that one side of the lane is award winningly trimmed and tidy. The other side , facing the church , the very old farmers decidedly non-award winning wilderness of tall grass through which can be seen the outlines of a rather splendid tree peony and the occasional bluebell.
Village feuds mean nothing to Bob and Sophie who continue to enjoy life. For the first time they make it up, as well as down, the slippery wooden staircase that leads from the hall to the upstairs kitchen. One of lifes little triumphs. Bobs tail, we notice, wags 24/7.
