The ladyfriend and I, in an act of seasonal charity, went to Stokenchurch on Sunday to the Dog Rescue home for unwanted dogs. They run a thing there where you can turn up at an allocated hour and take one of their dogs for a walk. I've always wanted to do it and as the Ladyfriend does what's she's told so we went along. We filled out the necessary forms and then waited in the courtyard for our dog to come along. Huge Alsations, Rottweillers and Labradors came out, they all jumped up at the volunteer walker in excitement. "Goodness" I thought, perhaps we had bitten off more than we could chew!
Then our number was called out and this little ball of cotton wool with legs came tearing around the corner. His name is Pippin, he doesn't like men and we were not to touch his belly, no matter how tempting it was. The poor thing had already been re-homed twice but was back in the slammer for bad behaviour. He was fabulous, the first thing he did was roll over on his back and produce his tummy. When he'd had enough of the walk he sat down then ran back to the home. I think he wanted to watch EastEnders because he wouldn't stop for anyone, not even a lamp post.
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