Bob

Quite a typical view of Bob this, if truth be told. Wet, muddy, scruffy, bum in air, head in something unspeakable… yep, that’s m’boy! But he’s happy!

Later, he’ll have a last splash about in the irrigation channel just so he can get the living room rug good and wet and whiffy when he rolls himself on it to dry. Oh, and sometimes we do that scooting across it on our bottom thing too, just for good measure.

And later on in the evening, while he’s off snoozing somewhere comfy and supposedly out of bounds, I’ll stub my toe on a rock he’s brought home as today’s souvenir or I’ll just be sitting down to catch the news when I’ll notice a slightly suspicious smell and investigation of his bed will turn up a particularly grubby bone or a shaving from a mule’s hoof (as soon as Bob spots the farrier arriving at the top of the hill, he knows there’s likely to be a few of these on offer and the stinkier they are the better…)

And then, in the dead of night, we might feel the need hop out onto the balcony to join the chorus of barking buddies serenading the village by moonlight... before kicking off a new day by jumping on our bed, walking over the occupants and then snuggling in and licking any ear, nose or whatever that’s available… at 5.45 in the morning…

And we wouldn’t change him for the world!