At last. Hetty and I braved the icy roads and headed off to the kennels to collect our Christmas foster pooch. During her speed-dating Hetty tried out several lurchers and a couple of greyhounds, but this gorgeous bearded collie/ lurcher x was the paws down winner.
One of the things I love about Cyril is that he reminds me of my beautiful, waggy, canine matchmaker Boo. Sadly, Boo passed away this year. Boo would chaperone me on dates. He was the dog that Rochester carried up 200 rickety steps on our first date (Boo feigned injury, it was really his canny way of determining whether R. was a chivalrous gentleman or swarthy rogue).
So, Cyril is just 1 year old. Happily he is cat friendly, seems well behaved and good with other dogs. He is obviously house-trained, loves the car, can sit and give a paw when asked. It makes me wonder, how on earth has such a gorgeous dog become a stray? Are his owners out there somewhere, missing him?
The question is, is Cyril 'the one'? We shall see. But first let me explain about his name. At the kennels they called him 'Tosca', which sounded rather pretentious for a skanky, rescue mutt. Recently I have been reading the wonderful 'Scotland Street' novels by Alexander McCall Smith. They remind me of a very buttoned-down, British version of Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City books. There is something comforting about reading a whole series of books featuring the nefarious goings-on of the same characters. They become so familiar. My favourite character in the series is Cyril, who is a rather louche shaggy dog. Cyril is owned by an artist. He has the rakish habit of winking at ladies, he smiles too - flashing a solid gold tooth and he loves to drink beer. He is possibly the best written dog in contemporary fiction!
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