That irrepressible mischief.

Our morning walk shows that there are guests at the Gites next door. A family from Brittany together with a young female beagle. The beagle is very taken with Wilf. She darts out of the front gate and tries everything to attract his attention. While she dances round and round , whimpering seductively , our insouciant hero marches on . Those rheumy eyes completely oblivious to her presence. The old fellows much more interested in christening the fire hydrant. Not much chance of a holiday romance for our young , dangly eared , Bretonne.

Wilf is learning to walk with a paw tentatively feeling the air ahead of him. This technique has cut down the number of collisions between large black nose and furniture by at least sixty percent. Mornings are spent lounging half in and half out of the front door. Afternoons are passed dozing in the cool of the hall. The rest of the day spent curled up on the floor of the kitchen ready to pounce on any culinary accidents. We've had to give up on trips down to the stream . The uncertainty of navigating his way down to the waters edge and then judging when to stop , before falling in , is just too stressful . He much prefers to be in a world bounded by the house, the garden and the village green. Through it all he's remained calm and gentle . His trust in us total. The old fellow may be slowing down but that irrepressible sense of mischief is firmly in place. As Wilf might put it : " Love and laughter are what you need most in life. They'll fill out all the potholes in the road " .