Back from Asia to be met at the airport by ' the font ' and Wilf . It was a French national holiday and the terminal was full to the gunnals with noisy vacationers. Not that this seething mass of humanity bothered Wilf . Bored with waiting he had turned on his back, stuck his paws in the air and drifted off into a happy , oblivious to everything , sleep . It took him a few seconds to wake up and realise that I was tickling his tummy . Then he was on his feet doing his ' Rejoice with me , for I have found my sheep which was lost ' dance - paws and rear end moving in uncoordinated excitement .
He's been a bit under the weather for the last few days . Maybe it's stress , maybe it's the liver .The intake of water has become alarming - a full bowl every hour during the day and perhaps every two hours at night . Truly manic . If he doesn't improve a trip to the vets is on the cards . Wilf of course is unconcerned . He takes the view that being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It just means you've got to look past the imperfections .