Carefree

Our Sunday morning routine. Into town with Wilf . First stop the bakers for the breakfast croissants .Then a cup of coffee at the bar on the square. Wilf accepts the hair tousling and the 'Salut Ongoose , Salut Wilf ' as though it's entirely natural. Another cold, cloudless day. On our way home we stop by the river. Wilf rolls and rolls in the hard, frosty grass. Carefree. Fear of the future a human, not a canine, trait.

We pass through the neighbouring village. There on a cottage doorstep, soaking up the sun , Oliver, the old widows labrador. He took up this position a year ago on the day her husband died. He resolutely spends his days there come rain, sleet or snow. Waiting patiently for his masters return. Now he's the man of the family. Literally guarding hearth and home . Invisible routines of life in deepest France Profonde

Wilf has had a good week. The new insulin regime working wonders. Only one pit stop a night. The rickety old farmhouse echoing with laughter at his escapades. He's recently taken to falling asleep in the oddest places. Late at night we find him slumbering contentedly away under the dining table or in downstairs bedrooms. Places he usually never visits. His eyesight is clouding over but he lives by that old philosophy " Faith makes all things possible. Love makes all things easy ".