I've been secretly relieved that no one seemed to be interested in adopting her. Hetty, Mabel and I had a wonderfully bracing walk on the beach today. Mabel was fine off the lead, she stayed by my side the whole time and did her best to ignore the dozens of assorted canines that were manically wigging their wags all around her.
However, I returned home to an email from the rescue centre. Someone had been in touch and was interested in adopting her as a companion for their male brown labrador. Oh dear. I don't think Mabel would want to be some brutish, boorish lab's trophy bride. I don't want to sound like some doggy racist, but I am not keen on labs. They are the swarthy rogues of the dog fraternity.
So, a compromise. I have arranged with the rescue centre that Mabel will stay with me for another week. That way I will see how she copes with my return to work. If all is well then I shall adopt the highly-strung hound.
Well. I am going to crack open a bottle of ASDA pink Prosecco (ah, the decadence) and watch Miss Marple. What a Sex and the City life I lead!
I am dreading tomorrow. Another INSET day, a whole day spent in the overbearing and offensive company of Pompous Pilate.