A perfect gentleman

 

A perfect gentleman

Gilbert, wet from a swim, modelling his tracker. He and Roxy wear trackers every time they go for a walk.

In our house there is a lobby between the sitting room and the kitchen. It has four doorways, but only three doors. One door leads from the sitting room. One doorway leads into the kitchen. One door leads to the integral garage, which houses everything but a car, and where things disappear never to be seen again. One door conceals the downstairs loo.

It is a reasonably-sized area, and houses one of the cat litter trays, and a gallon bucket of water. All the animals, including visitors, avail themselves of it, and small children are discouraged from plunging their hands and heads into it.

One wise dog, long gone, our gentle Dalmatian, Dominie, always used to have a good drink before she went out for a walk. None of the others has ever done that, but they go immediately to drink on returning home.

Gilbert is very sensitive, ever willing to please, and mortified if he thinks he has done something inappropriate. He also keeps an eye on Roxy when they are out, and if she hangs back, or remains too long in one spot, he draws attention to the fact.

At home, he frequently curls up by my feet, as he did when he was a puppy, while Roxy spreads herself out in everyone’s way. That way she cannot be ignored.

Today, after their walk, Gilbert was having a long drink. I was in the kitchen, needing to go past him into the sitting room. Without a word or gesture from me, he shifted his body so that I had room to pass.

He is a perfect gentleman.