Little People

I had a long conversation with Hugo this morning. No, seriously. It's taken a while to get to this stage, but it was as blissful and wonderful as I could ever have imagined. It started months ago, when he was being obviously loving and receptive, snuggling up to me, looking up into my face, and making a low moaning sound. I would replicate this, groaning gently and murmuring words like "Yesss", "I knowww", "Mmmmmm", using a long low strangulated sound in my throat to accompany them. Sometimes he would respond, and I would keep going, but it never lasted long. This morning, out of the blue, we kept it going for several minutes, alternating the sound of pure ecstasy so it became a smooth, unbroken murmur of intense feeling, a proper conversation. He was communicating "I love you!" and I was responding the same. In the end I had to stop because I felt a bit overwhelmed. The emotion was just too much for me. I made an excuse: "Just got to put the milk away, sorry" and moved off the sofa. He's an incredible little dog, with such a big heart.

Last night he didn't look little at all when he played with two miniature dachshunds, two naughtly little chaps it has to be said. Well, one naughty one. Stoic, sensible Otto, the rough-haired one who used to be tortured by his boistrous, ruthless brother Toby, heaved a sigh of relief when the thug keeled over one day and died. Now I can have some peace at last, he thought, and settled down to enjoy his new life. But Sophie and Alistair had other plans, and soon a tiny smooth-haired puppy called Digby joined the family. He's not a sadist, but he is endlessly active, curious and inventive. Otto rolled his eyes and turned his back on everyone, stopped eating, and the vet diagnosed depression. Oh Otto, how could this be happening? But with special love and attention he rallied, and now the two are good friends. Otto is still stoic and sensible, and he watches his brother get into constant trouble with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Who's been into my bedroom and torn the entire loo roll into shreds all over the carpet?" David demanded at one point. "Who's done a poo on the hall carpet?". "Who's chewed the lid of the kitchen bin?" Hugo watched it all from the safety and comfort of his bed after fending off the two barking bodies for several minutes when we arrived. He let them jump at him, he allowed them to lick his face and smell his bottom, and then, irritated by the noise they mde, he quietly moved away. Hugo, Hugo, Hugo, was there ever a more darling dog?