Only once did I come upon a Bobbie who was a near-fool; he was a dog I bought because of his registration, for I went on coveting registration for my dogs. Lorenzo was advertised: “A magnificent specimen of the noble breed–registered name–‘Lorenzo.’” He was impressive enough on paper; in the flesh he was a scraggy, muddle-coloured, sparse-coated creature, with none of the massive, lumbering shagginess of the true Bobbie. His papers apparently were…

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A stranger stood at the garden gate. Young dogs leapt, old dogs stiffened and growled, enquiring noses smelled through the bars of the gate at the head of the garden steps. Fore-paws rested a step higher than hind-paws, making dogs’ slanted bodies, massed upon the steps, look like a grey thatch. Strong snuffing breaths were drawn in silently, expelled loudly. I came into the middle of the dog pack and asked of the stranger,…

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I loved sleeping in the garden room, my garden room where flowers and creatures were so close. It was nearly time for the moon to turn in and for me to turn out. Punk, lying on the mat beside my bed, got up, crept to the open door-stood, a blurred mass of listening shadow. The blind man in my downstairs flat had twice before told me of rustlings in the dog-field at night. His…

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