Three Dogs.

I may have mentioned before that I have two lurchers. Or, to paraphrase John Lennon, they have me. Then there's my third dog.

All three seem to have been hanging around more or less forever, dogging my footsteps.

All three creep into my head when I'm trying to think of other things, stick their furry demanding noses in my hand, greet me first thing in the morning and last thing at night with a quick snuffle. They try to scramble into my lap despite being far too unwieldy. They don't like being away from me and won't walk themselves. They make anxious soft squeaking noises when I don't pay them enough attention.

I've given the third Dog away now. He's out in the world. I hope he's getting enough to eat and that people are being kind to him. I think he's a handsome, impressive beast, but perhaps I'm prejudiced. Perhaps he's just scruffy and eccentric.

If you see him, please give him a pat. Or better yet, take him home.