Short and Sweet

Being confined to barracks is not suiting Hugo at all. As I take him out yet again to perform his messages on the drive or the grass verge he looks at me in puzzlement, then at the field or the lane, then back at me again. He tries to gently walk in the direction he is used to but he is not allowed. Oh what a mistake it was to run after that hare Hugo! Will you ever learn? On Friday after work I collected him as usual and he was bursting with energy, forgetting that his leg has been badly hurt. Roger reported that he had not performed all day apart from a few pees, so I tried to encourage him before we went out for the evening. Nothing doing. So it should have come as no surprise as we all sat by the fire with a drink prior to bridge and supper that David suddenly appeared with more logs and said coldly, "There is a mess in the hall." David is not very keen on dogs though he usually bears them graciously, and as well as Hugo, Judy's daughter Sophie had brought Otto the miniature rough-haired dachshund with her. "Well," I declared confidently from deep in an armchair, hand curled around the stem of a rather nice glass of Bourgogne Aligote, "I can categorically, absolutely guarantee that it was not Hugo who would never ever do such a thing," and I looked smugly at Sophie and Otto. Seconds later as we both surveyed the dreadful sight it was clear that tiny Otto was not to blame. The "thing" was nearly as big as him. Oh how I cringed, how I grovelled, how I cleaned up the mess. Hugo was exhilarated, his first huge movement since early morning. I could hardly blame him.

I warned Ruth what might happen the next day when I left him to go to London. He's getting no exercise, and he's on antibiotics, painkillers and anti-inflammatories. His system is all haywire. I left them to it, and had the best time with Kitty, watching her client's amazing show at the Soho Theatre and meeting him afterwards. Six years after a hideous sexual assault by an older man, an act of violence and invasion, he finally found the massive courage to turn it into risky comedy, black comedy admittedly, and won the Edinburgh Festival Award for best act last summer. Kudos for him and her. It was painful and hilarious, and he ended by telling anyone who had experienced something similar to talk about it, get it out in the open. He's a lovely young man, and he impressed me hugely.

Kitty thought this would be funny ...!

Kitty and I adjourned across the road to a restaurant already packed with diners, and caught up on each other's stuff across a sea of white damask. Hers is more interesting than mine I have to admit. Far, far too quickly I had to leave to catch my train. It was that or the dawn one with the milk bottles. "I wish you were staying," she said. "Me too," I told her. It's always sad to go. I stayed the night at Ruth's with Hugo in my room, and every time he moved I turned on the light to check he wasn't relieving himself on the floor. At one point he had climbed onto a chair and was making himself comfortable. "Off," I ordered sternly, and he slunk back down again. It was a long night, but I needn't have worried. Apart the odd mistake, he's always willing to please.