A Different Sort of Tricycle.

The stare of this collie is typical of the hypnotic effect her eyes would have on sheep, or even small children. In my youth, border collies had a reputation to match that which is, today, undeserved by the Rottweiler. Their ability to herd a birthday party of small terrified children into the corner of a room was legendary, but it was probably never any more than legend.

This lovely old lady, I didn't find out her name, was a bit timid but quickly realised that if she leaned hard enough against my legs she would have her ear scratched. Mrs Whitehouse, a British dog trainer from the '70s, maintained that dogs detested such treatment though I've never found one that did. This one is looking slightly worried as she has been called away by her master and isn't sure whether she dare came back for just one more scratch, but she was off before I could take a better picture.

When TD Jnr was but a small lad, we saw dog in a shopping precinct with a similar handicap to this one, "Look Daddy, that dog's got a missing leg!" We were both amused for some time while I explained that if he had it, then it wasn't missing. We eventually decided that it should be referred to as a three-legged dog and happiness reigned. Such creatures usually manage very well; some years ago we looked after Howie, a three legged whippet; few people noticed his deficiency, even when he went lame on one leg he could still manage a good gallop on the remaining two.

Correction: The dog trainer was Mrs Woodhouse. Note to self: always check your facts.

Addendum: Having met this lady again, I find her name is Beau.