No one really expects to fall in love, but hey when it comes, it comes and you had better be ready to muster all your dignity and accept the inevitable. Anyway, such it was with Harry, the finest minihound in Argyll. My dear friends Jay and Fi, (who appeared in my last post), are step-mum and step-dad to this parsnips-terrier. My girlfriend and I were invited to stay recently, and the whole wonderful visit was enhanced by regular licks and standing leaps-into-your-lap by this handsome chap. Ladles and Jellyspoons, I give you Harry….

This was November, and the water was freezing; dogs have no sense, especially when cute…

I’m becoming lazy and lax, I can’t decide which of these shows the scale of the minihound best, or for that matter the scale of Jay’s lap..

Just in case you think my confession of affection for this chien par excellence is exaggerated, here is a shot someone took of me inflicting my guitar playing and nearly-but-no-banana singing on the household after breakfast. I was genuinely trying to sing when Harry climbed on to my shoulder to clean my left ear for me in a remarkably successful attempt to stop the noise.


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