Just do your best

“Hello, I’d like to make an appointment for one of our dogs to see one of your vets this morning, please,” I said.

“Certainly, which dog is it?” enquired the receptionist.

“Moss,” I replied.

“Aww Mossy,” she beamed. “We love Mossy.”

Moss has his fans. It is probably his eyes that do it; his eyes and his demeanour. His resting face is one of pleading tragedy. We have two Hungarian wirehaired vizslas; the other, Pippin, has the shorter, coarser coat. The differences are more than just coat texture though; again a quote is necessary to really get the point across. The scene is Penrith on a sunny day. The dogs are sitting outside a shop while someone is within. People approach and this is how it goes:

“Ooh, aren’t they lovely? What are they?”

“They are Hungarian wirehaired vizslas; they are gundogs.”

“Oh. How old is