Mon p'tit chouchou .

When Madame Bay arrives Wilf is lying across the front doorstep enjoying the warmth of the early morning sun . He's had another bad night . ' Bonjour mon p'tit chouchou ' she trills by way of greeting . Before the family fellow has a chance to move he's shrouded in layers of lily of the valley scented chiffon . Wilf gives her a look that seems to say '' leave it out love , I'm a boy dog " . He still gets a tickle and a kiss on the head .

Armed with a cup of coffee Madame Bay relates more village scandal . Oustric , the head of l'association Cheminons tranquille has resigned from his post as organizer of the village saints day festivities. Last year there were more than a thousand visitors to our little patch of paradise but this year only three hundred and forty . At last nights council meeting the head of the competing village fleuri association suggested that the advertising could have been handled more professionally . Oustric immediately saw this as a direct slight on his manhood and stormed out of the salle de fetes in a blood red gallic rage . His parting words " if you're so clever you do it ! ". ( Those weren't the exact words as relayed by Madame Bay but you get the gist ) . Relations between the two village associations have moved from being merely frosty to full ice age glacial .

Wilf follows me down the lane to look at the heavily pregnant cows grazing contentedly in their field by the stream . They chew cud and look at us . He leans for reassurance against my leg. An old PONs thought for the day : '' When our perils are past , shall our gratitude sleep ? ".