Me: Happy Valentine’s Day Nell.

Nell: Thank you and the same to you.

Me: Dave is over the moon to have Sally visiting us, isn’t he?

Nell: I understand the red rose but the serenading is becoming rather tedious.

Me: He’s only sung a few songs. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: With a backing band and cartwheeling llamas?

Me: They caused quite a commotion at the Bus Stop.

Nell: The bus had to wait.

Me: Sally and the villagers loved it.

Nell: She loves everything Davey does.

Me: Stop being such a curmudgeon, Nell. They’re in love and it’s Valentine’s Day. Did you get anything for Rupert?

Nell: Driving gloves, if you must know. His paws get cold in winter when he’s on his motorbike.

Me: I saw your flowers and card.

Nell: Which ones?

Me: I beg your pardon. Did you have more than one card?

Nell: I had three, to be exact, and a dozen red roses, a bouquet of wild flowers and a bowl of spaghetti bolognese.

Me: I’m guessing Rupert gave you the wild flowers.

Nell: Correct.

Me: Loving, but not ostentatious. What about the red roses?

Nell: You won’t like it.

Me: It was that wretched lion, wasn’t it?

Nell: Lionel can’t help his feelings.

Me: I can’t believe you would accept roses from that animal.

Nell: He means well.

Me: What did the spaghetti bolognese say?

Nell: It was a very large bowl so I think it was probably for everyone.

Me: I mean the card?

Nell: It said ‘Benvenuto in famiglia’.

Me: Welcome to the family.

Nell: Your Italian is getting better.

Me: Don’t you see what that means?

Nell: No.

Me: It’s what the Mafia say. They call themselves The Family.

Nell: It was just a card. Calm down.

Me: Sorry.

Me: What’s the matter with Dave and Harriet? They look like they’ve seen a ghost.

Nell: They’re looking at the head.

Me: The head?

Nell: Yes.

Me: In your bed? Is it a horse’s head? I knew this would happen.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: It’s what they do to frighten people.

Nell: Who?

Me: The Mafia.

Nell: Who mentioned the Mafia?

Me: You’re right. Probably best not to mention them.

Nell: I’m talking about the Polar Bear.

Me: They put a polar bear in your bed?

Nell: No. It’s on the wall.

Me: On the wall?

Nell: Yes, in the living room.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me that before?

Nell: I tried.

Me: That’s just Mike.

Nell: Mike?

Me: Mike the Polar Bear. Alice gave him to me for Christmas and Kev must have finally got around to putting him up.

Nell: Don’t you think someone should have told us?

Me: He’s been in the kitchen on the shelf next to the recipe books. I’m surprised you didn’t notice him before.

Nell: I didn’t.

Me: He’s from Dartmouth, so he’s a local bear.

Nell: Stanley was looking at our recipe books.

Me: Was he?

Nell: Maybe he asked Kev to move Mike?

Me: I was right.

Nell: About what?

Me: It’s a classic Mafia move. Very clever.

Nell: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Me: This time it’s a polar bear on the wall but next time it could be a horse’s head in your bed.

Nell: I worry about you sometimes. I really do.

Me: We need to stay alert.

Nell: You’ll be pleased to hear Sally is on her way down here from London.

Me: Did Harriet tell her my theory?

Nell: I think it’s best you do that yourself.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: What did you just say?

Me: I said Stanley is going to cook an Italian meal for us once a week.

Nell: Once a week?

Me: Yes. It will give the Hoffmanns a well-deserved evening off.

Nell: We’re not going to manage on one small bowl of spaghetti bolognese once a week.

Me: You’ll get at least one bowl each and it won’t always be spaghetti bolognese. Stanley can cook all kinds of different meals.

Nell: This is dreadful news. How am I going to break it to the Spaghetti Bolognese Club?

Me: Do you mean Dave? He’ll understand.

Nell: Nigel isn’t going to take this well either.

Me: Nigel is only here at weekends.

Nell: Exactly. What if he misses Italian night?

Me: He can join in the next time.

Nell: You’re doing this because Stanley is a friend of Lionel’s, aren’t you?

Me: Of course not.

Nell: It’s not his fault Stephen Seagull is his big brother.

Me: I never said it was.

Nell: Or Savoiardi is his godfather.

Me: Godfather? Sponge Finger is Stanley’s godfather?

Nell: Somebody said he might be.

Me: Did they say His godfather or The Godfather?

Nell: I don’t remember. What’s the difference?

Me: Ever heard of the Mafia?

Nell: Here we go.

Me: It’s all making sense now.

Nell: Is it?

Me: I was thinking NOIR but I should have been thinking Mafia.

Nell: I don’t think you should be thinking at all.

Me: Sponge Finger has spread his wings

Nell: Of course he’s spread his wings. He’s a rook.

Me: NOIR wasn’t enough for him.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: Maybe Stanley should cook more than once a week?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

Nell: Stanley’s not an enemy.

Me: I’m afraid he is. Sorry.

Me: What are you doing?

Nell: Listening.

Me: Listening to what?

Nell: Stanley Smoochy and Herr Hoffmann.

Me: Why is Stanley here?

Nell: Lionel brought him over for his interview.

Me: Lionel King?

Nell: Yes. I told you Stanley was staying with him.

Me: I don’t want that lion here.

Nell: He’s just helping Stanley with his interview.

Me: What interview?

Nell: The one with Herr Hoffmann about the job as sous chef.

Me: Lionel isn’t a chef.

Nell: No, but he speaks Italian so he can translate.

Me: Does he?

Nell: Yes, he’s had a close Italian friend for years, if you must know.

Me: It wouldn’t be a rook, would it?

Nell: It would, but don’t start all that NOIR nonsense again.

Me: The Notorious Organisation of International Rooks.

Nell: Yes, I know what it means.

Me: Lionel’s friend Sponge Finger wants to get a foot in our door.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: Sponge Finger, aka Savoiardi, Head of NOIR.

Nell: I know who he is.

Me: Lionel and Sponge Finger have been using Stanley to get to us.

Nell: What?

Me: They’ve been tempting us with spaghetti bolognese and other Italian dishes.

Nell: Stanley just enjoys cooking.

Me: That’s what he wants you to think.

Nell: We’re not the only ones eating his food.

Me: We’re the only ones with a spy in the family and the Head of MI5 as our girlfriend.

Nell: Sally is David’s fiancée.

Me: And you’re all Labradors and Labradors are driven by food.

Nell: Sally’s a Golden Retriever and we don’t know the rook is Sponge Finger.

Me: Of course he is. This whole plan has NOIR written all over it.

Nell: Stanley just wants to cook and we love his food.

Me: You’re going to regret this. Sorry.

Me: Look at this sweet photo of the Puppies asleep in Kev’s studio. Kev just sent it to me. Bless them.

Nell: Is that real?

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: There’s a lot of Artificial Nonsense around at the moment.

Me: You mean AI. Artificial Intelligence. Although an ai is actually a three-toed sloth.

Nell: Why bring sloths into this? I’m talking about David and Harriet.

Me: You know they’re real. You saw them at breakfast.

Nell: But look at Harriet.

Me: She’s sleeping.

Nell: She’s bigger than David.

Me: Of course she isn’t.

Nell: Look at her long legs and body. She’s absolutely huge,

Me: It’s the angle. She’s in the foreground so she seems bigger.

Nell: Are you sure?

Me: Yes.

Nell: Go and check.

Me: No.

Nell: What if there’s a Giant Harriet upstairs and a tiny David?

Me: There isn’t. I promise you. They’ll both come downstairs soon and you’ll see for yourself.

Nell: I’m very worried. Shout ‘Bacon!’.

Me: Why would I do that?

Nell: Because they’ll run downstairs.

Me: But we haven’t got any bacon, it’s Tuesday.

Nell: Shout ‘Biscuits!’ then.

Me: You’re overreacting.

Nell: Just do it.

Me: You’re making me nervous now.

Nell: See.

Me: I’m half expecting a Giant Harriet even though I know it’s nonsense.

Nell: Just call them.

Me: It can’t be the pizza. We all ate it and you and I are the same.

Nell: So was Harriet when she went upstairs a few minutes ago.

Me: Did you say minutes?

Nell: Yes. We didn’t finish breakfast until late because David ate the eggs by mistake and we needed new ones.

Me: So, you think Ordinary Harriet went upstairs and a few minutes later she turned into Giant Harriet?

Nell: Harriet is not Ordinary.

Me: No. Sorry.

Nell: I need you to keep an open mind.

Me: I can do that.

Nell: I was talking to Lionel yesterday and he had a really good idea.

Me: Lionel King?

Nell: Yes.

Me: You were talking to that dreadful lion?

Nell: Yes. He was at Sunday Songs and wanted to say how much he enjoyed my duet with Nigel.

Me: It was good.

Nell: Thank you.

Me: ‘That’s Amore’ is one of my favourites.

Nell: Mine too.

Me: Well, nice chat but I’d better get on.

Nell: Hold on a minute, I haven’t even told you about Lionel’s idea yet.

Me: Oh, is there more?

Nell: Lionel thinks we should hire an Italian sous chef.

Me: What?

Nell: A chef to help Herr Hoffmann with the Italian food.

Me: Herr Hoffmann doesn’t need any help.

Nell: But it’s not the same.

Me: It’s fine.

Nell: And that’s not all.

Me: Are we hiring a Chinese chef now? Or an Indian one?

Nell: Don’t be silly. Lionel thinks we should hire Stanley Smoochy.

Me: Stanley Smoochy?

Nell: Yes. Isn’t that a wonderful idea?

Me: But Stanley’s gone.

Nell: No, he hasn’t. Lionel happens to know those pizzas were made by him.

Me: How does he know all this?

Nell: Because Stanley is staying with him.

Me: Really?

Nell: Yes. Apparently he and Stephen Seagull had a falling out so Stanley left.

Me: He didn’t go very far.

Nell: No. Lionel found him at the Bus Stop and took him home. Wasn’t that kind of him?

Me: I don’t trust that lion.

Nell: Stanley was so pleased to be staying in the village he made pizzas for us all.

Me: I knew it was him.

Nell: So, what do you think?

Me: I think that lion is up to something. Sorry.

Nell: Where is everyone? They ate their breakfast and left.

Me: Nigel and the Puppies are asleep in Kev’s studio.

Nell: Is Nigel on the bunk bed?

Me: Yes. He looks really comfortable.

Nell: Harriet likes to sleep up there.

Me: She doesn’t mind sharing, Nell. Nigel is her senior.

Nell: The only Senior Labrador around here is me.

Me: Nigel is 10 and he’s a rescue dog so he had a difficult start to life.

Nell: I’d forgotten that.

Me: I thought you might have.

Nell: I probably need to be kinder.

Me: I think you do.

Nell: Maybe I’ll sit next to him at lunch?

Me: He’s going to wonder why.

Nell: We could share a Yorkshire pudding or a roast potato?

Me: You don’t do sharing, Nell.

Nell: I don’t like people touching my food. Maybe we could sing a duet at Sunday Songs?

Me: Are you quite sure about that?

Nell: Maybe ‘That’s Amore’? Sunday Songs is Italian themed today. The Welsh Corgi Choir are dressed as gondoliers and they’re serving pizza at half time.

Me: Half time?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Sunday Songs doesn’t have a half time.

Nell: It does now. Someone kindly left a number of pizzas at the Village Hall.

Me: But you won’t manage your Sunday Roast.

Nell: Don’t be silly. We’re Labradors. We’ve never not managed anything.

Me: It seems a bit greedy. Were the pizzas in boxes or Tupperware containers?

Nell: What’s that got to do with anything?

Me: I just wondered.

Nell: Someone is kind enough to make us pizza and all you can do is wonder why they put them in Tupperware containers.

Me: I bet they have a thin crust and there’s no pineapple on any of them.

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: Nothing. Sorry.

Nell: Is Nigel in your bedroom?

Me: No.

Nell: Be honest.

Me: He might be. Why?

Nell: He missed Morning Thoughts.

Me: I didn’t know he was part of Morning Thoughts.

Nell: When he’s visiting us his name is Nigel Martin and all Martins are required to be present at Morning Thoughts.

Me: I’m not. And neither is Kev.

Nell: Kev’s there.

Me: Wait a minute. Did you just say Kev was at Morning Thoughts?

Nell: Yes. Sometimes he’s not fully awake but he’s definitely there.

Me: What about me?

Nell: You’re definitely not there.

Me: Why?

Nell: Because you’re either sleeping or writing. And you can’t be trusted.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: You’re always sharing. Look at me and Nigel. We have a slight disagreement and now we’ve got a virus.

Me: You haven’t got a virus. You’ve gone viral.

Nell: Whatever.

Me: People love you, Nell. And Nigel.

Nell: It’s probably why he’s hiding upstairs in your bedroom.

Me: I wouldn’t call it hiding.

Nell: What would you call it?

Me: It is actually hiding. He’s hiding at the end of my bed.

Nell: Is he hiding from me?

Me: I don’t think so.

Nell: Haven’t you asked him?

Me: I didn’t want to pry.

Nell: You didn’t want to pry? You’re always sticking your nose into other people’s business.

Me: I wouldn’t call it that. I’m naturally curious.

Nell: Tell me about it.

Me: I can’t. I don’t know why he’s hiding.

Nell: Ask him.

Me: Just like that?

Nell: He’s at the end of your bed.

Me: I don’t really want to bother him.

Nell: Nobody hides at the end of a bed for no reason.

Me: Fine, I’ll do it.

Nell: Well, go on then. We haven’t got all day.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Look at darling Marvin all cuddled up in the warm.

Nell: I’m glad he’s out of the cold.

Me: Talking of cold, you need to listen to me about going out in this weather, Nell. It’s not good for you to get wet.

Nell: I like an afternoon stroll.

Me: Only if it’s not raining.

Nell: Moving on, did I hear you say Nigel is going to be visiting?

Me: Yes. Nigel and my sister Charlotte are coming for the weekend.

Nell: Is Nigel aware of the dog bed situation?

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: There’s a distinct lack of dog beds in this house at the moment,

Me: I’ve told you they’re at the dry cleaners.

Nell: And I need to be accommodated first.

Me: Yes, we all know that.

Nell: David and Harriet don’t.

Me: They do. They just like to lie in a nice comfortable bed occasionally, too.

Nell: As long as everyone is on the same page. I come first as Senior Labrador.

Me: You do. I can tell you’re still grumpy, Nell.

Nell: We all are.

Me: Is it the rain?

Nell: No. I’m afraid we’ve had to disband the Spaghetti Bolognese Club.

Me: Oh no. Why?

Nell: It’s pointless without Italians.

Me: Maybe we can find some?

Nell: Don’t be silly. This is Devon not Tuscany.

Me: It’s worth a try.

Nell: If you do find an Italian they might not be able to cook.

Me: Maybe.

Nell: And if they can cook, they might not want to share.

Me: Let’s try and find one first.

Nell: And if they do want to share will they have any Tupperware containers?

Me: Stop finding reasons to be grumpy.

Nell: Just saying. Did I hear Nigel arrive?

Me: Yes, I’m afraid you did. Sorry.

Me: Look at all the snow in Toronto.

Nell: No wonder Marvin doesn’t want to go out.

Me: Some dogs love the snow.

Nell: We’re Labradors not Pyrenean Mountain Dogs.

Me: Talking of Pyrenean, how’s Pamela?

Nell: My friend Dorothy says she’s walking out with a rather dapper Highland Terrier.

Me: Is he from around here?

Nell: No, she met him on one of those dating sites. Growlmates.

Me: Interesting.

Nell: He lives in Edinburgh which is a nuisance but not insurmountable.

Me: Are you feeling any happier today?

Nell: Not really.

Me: So, the spaghetti bolognese didn’t work?

Nell: It lacked Stanley’s Italian touch. What about you?

Me: I enjoyed it.

Nell: You look a little off today.

Me: I woke up with an awful migraine.

Nell: Poor you. Migraines are frightful things.

Me: I’ve always suffered from them particularly in this kind of weather.

Nell: Yes, it simply won’t stop raining.

Me: It feels like everything’s falling apart at the moment. Including me,

Nell: Stop that negative talk.

Me: Maybe our grumpiness has nothing to do with spaghetti bolognese and everything to do with this awful weather?

Nell: Maybe? We need to find something positive.

Me: We do.

Nell: We should say a big thank you to everyone who kindly bought us a cup of Earl Grey.

Me: Yes, we should. Thank you so much.

Nell: As I’ve told you many times before, people can be very kind if you allow them to be.

Me: You’re right.

Nell: And that’s why I’m going to tuck you up in front of the fire with a nice cup of Earl Grey.

Me: Thank you.

Nell: I have one of Rupert’s soft blankets and David can sing to you if you wish.

Me: I might give the singing a miss. Sorry.