On Fixes and Fundamental Lessons.

Having not had the benefit of a dog fix for several long, empty weeks, I was treated to four in the space of two days. Yesterday it was two scrufty little beasts here in the Shire who absolutely demanded my attention and approbation. They both raced towards me squirming, wiggling, waggling (assuming the two participles not to be synonymous, which they probably are) and flashing their tails almost to the point of invisibility. Today’s two were quite different. Two Labradors in Uttoxeter – one yellow adult and the other a chocolate puppy – who approached me more sedately with smiles and earnest eyes. All were received most gratefully and paid much attention, of course.

They were the good encounters. The other sort came later.

I was in a charity shop when I spotted a woman come in with a little girl of around seven of eight. The child had a most prepossessing look about her – long black hair, fierce eyes, and an independent manner. I found her most impressive, and was moved to remark to the mother: ‘Your daughter has remarkably strong eyes. I think she’ll be the sort to get what she wants when she’s older.’ The mother only half turned her face to me and said: ‘Actually, he’s my son.’

Well, what do you do but shrink to a height of around two feet and look for the nearest deep hole to hide in? I excused myself on the grounds that the long hair had led me astray, and the mother countered with the perfect rebuke: She ignored me and continued to examine the merchandise.

And so I scuttled guiltily away and remonstrated soundly with myself. ‘Jeffrey,’ I said, ‘learn this lesson: Observe, but don’t speak. You’re very good at one but hopeless at the other. Got it?’ I got it.