Mingling with Royalty

So I ran into next door neighbour Ruby in the park a couple of nights ago and after we exchanged bottom sniffs she asked me what I'd been up to lately.

Do you have friends who ask such questions purely, you later realise, in the hope that you will ask the same question in return?

Well I was telling Ruby all about my recent adventures on the Nottingham public transport system, but I noticed her eyes glazing over and so, being a well brought up pup, I enquired politely, and what about you Ruby?

Ruby brightened up considerably.

"Oh gosh Bertie I had such an amazing experience when I went away to Killin in Perthshire last weekend with my owners Paul and Jan. Can you imagine, we were in the hotel bar and who should walk in but Prince William and a bunch of his friends! And Prince William patted me on the head and one of his friends asked "does it hunt?" So Paul explained that I was a Briard, a French dog bred for herding and guarding sheep, and not in any way a hunter. Then later in the evening, when Paul and I were outside enjoying the peace and quiet of the Highland night, who should come over and join us but Prince William himself. And he spoke to me, just me not Paul, for quite a while, in French! Of course, I shall be keeping our conversation confidential…… And Bertie it is not at all respectful of you to ask how many beers my new best friend Prince William had been drinking and to suggest he was envious of my luxuriant furs. Do you want to be locked in the Tower?"

Ruby edged away from me, nose in the air.

I fear she is getting ideas above her station.

"Ickle wickle puppy next door!"

I mentioned a while back that my next door neighbours Paul and Jan were planning to acquire a Briard puppy.

What is it about the youngest members of my species that make humans, even the most down to earth and rational ones (yes I am thinking of Gail) go pathetically gooey and start spouting embarrassing baby talk?

OK I admit that I have been excited too, in a manly and not-at-all-sentimental fashion you understand.

Well the new pup arrived on Sunday evening. Paul and Jan picked her up and drove her all the way back from somewhere near Nottingham. I have not been allowed to meet her yet, but I know that her name is Ruby, and she is bound to be pretty 'cos Gail insists that all the most beautiful girls come from Nottingham....

Although that last 'fact' may be unreliable.

(Did I ever mention that Gail spent the first eighteen years of her life in Nottingham?)

PS Just caught a glimpse of a bundle of black fluff through next door's front window. She's not 'ickle wickle' at all in fact she's already almost as big as me. At only nine weeks. Eeeeek!