I should know better

Allegra went to training class and was a g reat succes. She did everything with enthusiasm and a long waggy tail - unlike Mr Lentil who was disgusted at the necessity of leaving his pointless social overtures to two elderly bichon ladies and going on the lead, and dug in his little feet and skidded along scowling with a face, as the lady in charge remarked "like a skelped arse".

And she encountered a friend`s son, commonly known as The Happiest Baby in Scotland - well really the Happiest Toddler In Scotland now. Never been known to cry. Always slept all night. If his mother could bottle the secret and sell it, she`d make a fortune.

Allegra, as I suddenly realised, is well used to small children. Very well used. She was all over him like a cheap suit, and as he beamed at her she wagged that long tail, reached up and deftly removed his biscuit.

His face was a study. He examined his hand in perplexity. He was sure there had been a biscuit in it just a moment ago. If he stared hard, would it c ome back? Life was such a puzzle.

Allegra, obviously well versed in the candy from babies rouitine, chomped vigorously and then licked his hand, assuring him that the whole biscuit thing had been an illusion, and that puppies were much more fun anyway . He seemed to agree.

I made my apologies, gathered up the crumb spattered puppy and the sullen Mr Lentil and left.