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Having dashed off the majority of my tasks for the day I was persuaded to sojourn in the garden by the sight of my neighbours wandering round the village in shorts and tee shirts. The sun had finally made its way in over the roof tops and was nicely heating up the small seating area of our postage stamp garden.

I don’t own a recliner or anything like so on the rare occasions I  sit outside I make my own by pushing two of our old garden chairs together and putting my feet up. It came as little surprise to me that no sooner had I done this and made myself comfortable than my stout little shadow, Wilf, appeared at my side. He eyed me up and down and then without any warning leapt onto my lap! Not only was I left slightly winded but also totally incredulous at the gazelle like agility displayed by this most portly of hounds and loveable couch potato.

Wilf proceeded to make himself comfortable and steady by jamming one rear leg against my right knee.  He then flopped against me resting one paw on my right shoulder and the other on the top of my right arm. He then breathed a deep sigh of contentment as his head came to rest on my elbow. It was at this moment, as I put my arms round him, I had a vision of myself and my improvised recliner concertinaing in the middle and folding like a zed bed under our combined weight. However, as this alarming event thankfully failed to materialise, I relaxed and patted myself metaphorically on the back for having had the foresight to push the two chairs more closely together than usual thus narrowing any potentially ominous gap.

A Wilf viewed at such close and very whiskery quarters is an even more handsome hound than you would suppose, with something of the young matinee idol about him. His rotundity only appears to be a problem for the person he is sitting on. Otherwise he runs madly about the place in pursuit of, or being pursued by, Daisy at a fair old turn of speed.  However, anyone unfortunate enough to be struck by him during one of his high speed pursuits would go down like the proverbial nine pin.

A laid back and mellow Daisy came and joined us. She took up her usual place on the baggy old director’s chair we keep especially for her. The canvas has stretched slightly and she seems to like it for its hammock like tendencies. She is something of a sun worshiper and likes to find the hottest spot in the garden in which to bake. She curled up and proceeded to doze.

Thus swathed in dog I put my head back, closed my eyes and let the heat of the sun coax out my freckles. A little while later I felt the gentle rumble of melodious, even lyrical, snoring delivered in Wilfs own unmistakeable fine, rich baritone!

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