The sweetest and most glorious day .

Peak French holiday season . The village filling up with vacationers and their dogs . At the old widows house a French couple with a friendly young Westie that is desperate to be let out to play with Wilf . It sticks its nose and paws under the fence and whimpers in frustrated anticipation . Next door , in the converted garage where the lady professors from Ohio lived , a Belgian couple with one of those long haired Chinese dogs . Tiny body and its pink beribboned hair all piled up on top . Clearly it's never been socialised . It stands behind the gate snarling and yapping at all who wander by . I call an inquisitive Wilf back before he has his nose bitten off .

Further down the lane at the cottage owned by the Swiss couple a white Maltese . His name is Hugo , the same as Madame Bays ' good for nothing ' son in law . Hugo is the sort of dog that scurries away and hides , unconvincingly , behind the oleander bush at the front gate when he hears us approaching . Then when we've walked past and are at a suitably safe distance , he trots out into the middle of the lane with a look on his face that says , " Good riddance . I 'm the boss around here " .

Add to this a quick chat with Brunhilda at the gate house to the chateau and several brief encounters with Kelly the hover dog and Wilfs morning has got off to an exciting start . Safely home he settles down on the front doorstep for a chew and a restorative doze . A look on his face that says that for him this is the sweetest and most glorious day he's ever known . There again PON's think that about every day .