Unrecorded treasures.

In the small hours I find him pacing round and round and round the circular table in the dressing room. As soon as he sees me he trots over for a tickle and a chat and is soon sound and contentedly asleep in his bed. Confusion or a side effect of the Cortisone ?

One of those timelessly quiet days that wouldn't usually deserve a footnote in a diary. Sleeping longer than usual and wanting to walk and play less. Quickly and uncharacteristically ignoring the hoardes of workmen who have suddenly descended on the house to repair the hole in the roof and the larger of the myriad cracks in the walls. In the late afternoon an hours walk, off his lead, across the fields and through the walnut groves. A red and gold carpet of leaves to be rolled in, pounced on and shuffled through. Completely lost to us in a world of simple enjoyment. Scents, perfumes, sights and memories ; stumpy tail wagging twenty to the dozen.

That tender, priceless joy all dog owners share when he would look up, find we'd gone on ahead, and then come charging after us with a ' Hold on a minute - Where do you think you're going ?' look - canine forbearance. A bark at the post lady in her little yellow van . In the evening pure delight when he gets a little pork with his rice and kibbles. Finally asleep, across my feet, while I read in the drawing room. Transferred warmth .

A happy, happy day full of laughter and love. When you know the destination such simple moments become treasures.