Me: You’re such a classic beauty, Nell.

Nell: You’re too kind.

Me: I could spend the whole day taking photos of you.

Nell: I’d prefer it if you didn’t.

Me: You have such expressive eyes.

Nell: Here we go.

Me: And those grey chops are completely adorable.

Nell: Grey chops?

Me: The grey around your face.

Nell: I know what you mean, but please don’t say ‘chops’.

Me: It’s a term of endearment.

Nell: It’s cockney slang. Ladies don’t have chops.

Me: I still think you’re beautiful even with mud on your nose.

Nell: Mud on my nose?

Me: Yes, you must have been snuffling something again.

Nell: I don’t snuffle. I merely enjoy the occasional sniffari.

Me: If you want to use any of the photos for your profile on Growlmates you’ll have to ask Kev to photoshop the mud out.

Nell: I don’t have a profile on Growlmates and I don’t want one either.

Me: If you say so.

Nell: I have no need of it. I’m quite happy leaving that kind of thing to Naughty Nigel and my friend Dorothy.

Me: Are you saying they’re an item?

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: Dorothy and Nigel? Have they liked each other’s profiles?

Nell: It’s none of your business.

Me: They’d make a great couple. Nigel is impossibly handsome and Dorothy has glorious red hair.

Nell: It’s not all about looks, you know. There has to be chemistry.

Me: Dorothy and Nigel. How exciting.

Nell: That’s quite enough. Stop jumping to conclusions. Just because Dorothy has agreed to take tea with Nigel at the Cottage Hotel this afternoon doesn’t mean anything.

Me: I knew it.

Nell: And no, we’re not going there to spy on them.

Me: I didn’t suggest that.

Nell: You were about to.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: You’re not going to believe this.

Me: I just might.

Nell: Look.

Me: That’s a rather nice photo of Naughty Nigel. He’s such a handsome chap, isn’t he?

Nell: He’s lying on your bed.

Me: Yes. It must have been taken the last time he was visiting us.

Nell: He’s not allowed on your bed.

Me: Everyone else goes on my bed, so why not Nigel? Where did you find it?

Nell: If you must know, my friend Dorothy and I were browsing through profiles on Growlmates when we came across this photo of Naughty Nigel.

Me: Hang on a minute. You were doing what?

Nell: We were looking at the online dating site Growlmates and found a photo of Nigel lying on your bed.

Me: I can’t believe it.

Nell: I mean I knew Nigel was dating again because Dorothy saw him in Salcombe with a rather attractive Weimaraner but I didn’t expect to see him on Growlmates.

Me: Never mind Nigel. What were you doing on Growlmates? Isn’t it enough to have darling Knitwear Wolf and that wretched lion pursuing you?

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: How can you even be considering online dating?

Nell: I’m not. My friend Dorothy is.

Me: Well, that’s a relief.

Nell: If I was looking for love, which I’m not, I would never go down the online dating route.

Me: Why not? It’s how I met Kev.

Nell: I prefer the more traditional ways, thank you very much.

Me: Fair enough. Is Dorothy interested in dating Nigel?

Nell: No, she is not. She knows far too much about him.

Me: I wonder if Knitwear Wolf is on there. He’s still single.

Nell: Rupert is not on Growlmates.

Me: How do you know?

Nell: I checked. Stop smiling.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: David and I would like a serious word with you.

Me: Oh dear. What have I done now?

Nell: We know you’re trying to put a brave face on things but you’re actually feeling quite low.

Me: Don’t worry about me.

Nell: But we do and we want you to know there’s no need to pretend with us. If you’re sad then just be sad.

Me: Nobody likes a whiner.

Nell: It’s not whining. Your little sister died. You have skin cancer. Life is tough at the moment.

Me: It is a bit.

Nell: If you need to cry then cry. David is an exceptional cuddler as well as being Mayor of Kingsbridge.

Me: He isn’t actually Mayor of Kingsbridge.

Nell: Potato, potahto.

Me: The thing is I love the sunshine. Sitting in the sun with a good book is my escape.

Nell: And the weather’s been awful.

Me: It’s not that. Even when the sun does shine I can’t go out in it anymore. It’s become my enemy. I have to cover up.

Nell: You will get used to it.

Me: I shouldn’t complain. I just feel like my life is full of goodbyes at the moment. Life will never be the same again.

Nell: You will adapt. At the moment your memories of Alex are painful and sad but they will change to happier ones. Just give yourself time.

Me: Yes.

Nell: And as far as the sun is concerned I happen to know Kev is busy working on a gazebo for you so you can sit outside with us all and enjoy it safely.

Me: Bless him. He has been so supportive. You all have. I don’t know how to thank you.

Nell: No need. Just remember it’s okay not to be okay.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Thank goodness for the activity field. Dave and Poppy can run around there freely.

Nell: Yes, and I can take my time.

Me: Harriet never takes her time.

Nell: Not when she’s out but she can be a thoughtful little thing at home.

Me: You know Harriet is actually a bit bigger than you, don’t you?

Nell: She’ll always be a little thing to me. Harriet has a shy way about her.

Me: True. Your size doesn’t have to define you. Just look at David and Poppy in the field. David is a small pony and Poppy is a bundle of fluff.

Nell: I’m not sure she would appreciate that description.

Me: She wouldn’t because Poppy is a lion in personality while my darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy is a pussycat.

Nell: I beg your pardon? There is nothing remotely cat like about David.

Me: You know what I mean.

Nell: You need to be careful what you say. Doubts have been cast about David’s parentage.

Me: Are you talking about the vet saying she’d never seen such a big Labrador before and was he a purebred?

Nell: No, although Kev was most put out about it and reminded her David is Kennel Club registered.

Me: Yes, he told me.

Nell: There have been suggestions that David might be American.

Me: American? He’s from Oxfordshire.

Nell: I know that and you know that but apparently lots of Labradors are extremely big in America.

Me: Everything is bigger over there.

Nell: If David is American he might not be able to be Mayor of Kingsbridge.

Me: He isn’t Mayor of Kingsbridge.

Nell: He thinks he is and weren’t we just discussing how it isn’t how others see us but how we see ourselves that matters?

Me: Yes. You’re right. Sorry.

Me: It’s really lovely to have you home again.

Nell: It’s lovely to be home. A motorbike sidecar is not the most comfortable mode of transport but Rupert wasn’t letting us out of his sight.

Me: Good for him. I have a few questions.

Nell: I thought you might.

Me: Is there a particular reason why you and Harriet are still wearing your tiaras? Only you don’t look too happy about it.

Nell: Ask David.

Me: That was my other question. Do you know why Dave is looking a bit like Winston Churchill today?

Nell: David’s in charge of Coronation Sunday Songs and wants everything done properly.

Me: The Welsh Corgi Choir look delightful in their pretty red, white, and blue dresses.

Nell: They do. All this is nothing in comparison to yesterday, however. Such pomp and majesty.

Me: We certainly know how to do these things.

Nell: We do.

Me: I found it rather moving. The King looked so vulnerable.

Nell: I know what you mean.

Me: Like a rather bewildered elderly gentleman.

Nell: He knew exactly what was going on.

Me: I know but I think the sheer weight of responsibility must have been quite overwhelming, not to mention that crown.

Nell: Quite.

Me: I loved those furry cloaks. When the King and Camilla were riding in their coach to Westminster Abbey they reminded me of two polar bears.

Nell: Don’t be silly.

Me: And Princess Anne was astonishingly magnificent in that hat and on that horse.

Nell: She was.

Me: Kate looked amazing. Her headdress was exquisite. And the children were adorable.

Nell: It was a momentous and moving day but nothing is better than being home.

Me: How about a cheeky bacon sandwich before Sunday Songs?

Nell: I thought you’d never ask. I’m starving.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: Why are you calling me now? The photographer’s here and Rupert is taking us to Westminster Abbey.

Me: What photographer?

Nell: Harriet’s been chosen as one of the Faces of the Coronation.

Me: Did you say Knitwear Wolf’s with you?

Nell: Things went a little wrong yesterday so Rupert had to rescue us.

Me: You said you wouldn’t go in a sidecar.

Nell: A motorbike is the only way through at the moment. You wouldn’t believe how many people are here.

Me: I would. It’s all over the television. What went wrong?

Nell: Mr Giggles lost his way.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: I blame it on Dickens. We were all so caught up in the story we didn’t really listen to the directions.

Me: Where did you go?

Nell: I’m not sure but it definitely wasn’t Chelsea. Fortunately, Rupert was tracking us.

Me: How was he doing that?

Nell: Henry was safely secured in my shawl and Horst was with Rupert. They communicated using Louse Code. Harriet was in on it all.

Me: I knew she was up to something.

Nell: When we stopped to find the way, Rupert arrived and drove us straight to the Barkchesters. We were a little late for cocktails but still on time for dinner.

Me: What about Lionel King?

Nell: Last seen arguing in the rain with Mr Giggles.

Me: Well, have a wonderful time, Nell. Don’t forget to take photos and I want to hear all about it when you get home.

Nell: I hope David’s Coronation Party goes well.

Me: It will. He’s been outside in his top hat since first thing this morning organising it all.

Nell: Good. It’s time for us to go now. Long Live the King.

Me: Yes. Long Live the King and all of us too.

Me: I can’t believe you and Harriet are about to get into a car with a crown wearing lion and a top hatted elderly hyena.

Nell: Would you calm down, please?

Me: Why is Lionel King even wearing a crown?

Nell: He’s connected to the Royal Family. I can’t remember how.

Me: Stuff and nonsense.

Nell: If you look at their coat of arms and other such royal symbols you will find lions everywhere.

Me: You’ll be telling me he plays football next.

Nell: Lionel is more of a cricket playing lion.

Me: And what about Mr Giggles? Have you seen his teeth?

Nell: I’d rather not, thank you. They’re not exactly his best feature.

Me: Well, you’ll be seeing a lot of them when he laughs his way to London.

Nell: Mr Giggles is a keen fan of Dickens, if you must know, so we shall be listening to an audiobook of ‘Great Expectations’.

Me: Take the train, Nell. Or ask Knitwear Wolf to drive you up there.

Nell: I’m not arriving at the Barkchesters in a sidecar. And there’s no room on Rupert’s motorbike for Harriet.

Me: She could sit behind him. Dave does.

Nell: Enough. I understand your concerns and I’ll make sure to keep in close contact.

Me: You’d better. I don’t like this at all. I really don’t and neither does Knitwear Wolf.

Nell: Talking of Rupert, have you seen him? He left me a lovely light shawl to wear in case the weather turns cold and I haven’t been able to thank him.

Me: He left first thing this morning. Said he had business to attend to.

Nell: What a shame.

Me: I don’t want you to go, Nell.

Nell: Stop fussing. All will be well. Trust me.

Me: I’m not so sure. Sorry.

Me: Something fishy is going on.

Nell: It’s just David. He was hit by a mackerel this morning and he can’t get the smell out of his fur.

Me: Wretched Beefies. I’m not talking about real fish.

Nell: Why mention them then?

Me: It’s just a saying. Harriet’s hiding on the stairs.

Nell: She likes sitting there.

Me: I think she’s spying on someone.

Nell: Nonsense.

Me: When I asked her what she was doing she squeezed her eyes tight shut.

Nell: She’s probably just tired.

Me: Why?

Nell; We’ve been practising curtsying with Gladys and the llamas since first thing this morning.

Me: Do you think you’re going to have to curtsy? It’s a coronation not an investiture.

Nell: We need to be prepared for all eventualities.

Me: I don’t think the King’s going to have time to give out any awards, much as I think you deserve one.

Nell: I’m not talking about awards. If the King approaches us at any time we need to be ready.

Me: Fair enough. I still think Harriet is spying.

Nell: Anyway, before you hear this from anyone else I might as well tell you that Lionel has kindly agreed to take Harriet and I up to London tomorrow in his car.

Me: What do you mean tomorrow? The coronation is on Saturday.

Nell: We’re staying with friends in Chelsea.

Me: Who?

Nell: The Barkchesters. You don’t know them.

Me: Is that lion staying with them too?

Nell: Of course not. Lionel is staying at his club.

Me: You do realise Mr Giggles will be driving, don’t you?

Nell: Yes. I must admit I’m not looking forward to hours of listening to that dreadful laugh.

Me: Only someone decidedly fishy would have a hyena as his chauffeur.

Nell: Don’t start.

Me: Sorry.

Me: Is there anything wrong?

Nell: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Me: You’re sitting on that cushion in an extremely huffy sort of way.

Nell: I am not in a huff. I am deeply disappointed.

Me: Did someone burn the toast?

Nell: Have you seen today’s Daily Growl?

Me: No. Why?

Nell: I’d turn to page 5 if I were you. There’s a rather interesting photo of a certain someone with a new friend.

Me: Knitwear Wolf hasn’t finally moved on, has he? I warned you he wouldn’t wait for ever.

Nell: Rupert has nothing to do with this. The culprit is far closer to home.

Me: Let me see.

Nell: Help yourself.

Me: That’s a photo of me on the beach.

Nell: Yes.

Me: It was the day I met that sweet elderly dog.

Nell: We can all see how sweet it is, thank you.

Me: It was such a dear old thing and so friendly.

Nell: You two certainly seem to have bonded.

Me: I wonder who took the photo.

Nell: Beefy reporters are everywhere.

Me: Why?

Nell: Read the caption.

Me: ‘Writer Sara Martin pictured on Bantham Beach with a new friend. No sign of faithful companion, Nell, however. Has she been replaced?’

Nell: Exactly.

Me: That’s complete and utter nonsense. You’ll have been there, Nell. I’m sure that’s Dave in the background.

Nell: Meeting other dogs behind my back.

Me: Don’t be silly. Someone is simply trying to wind you up and it looks like they were successful.

Nell: You never say I’m sweet.

Me: That’s because you’re not. You’re opinionated and bossy and unbelievably stubborn but you’re incredibly wise and supportive and I love you more than words can say. I’d be lost without you. Stop being such a silly sausage.

Nell: Sorry.

Nell: Did Alice catch her train?

Me: Yes, we got to the station in plenty of time so we had a cup of tea in the sunshine.

Nell: I hope you were sitting in the shade.

Me: I was and I wore my sunglasses and put my Factor 50 suncream on.

Nell: You need a hat. We’ll talk to The Cat later. It’s bound to have one in its dressing up box.

Me: I don’t want feathers.

Nell: Nobody mentioned feathers. A plain hat will suffice.

Me: I’m glad we went down to the sea yesterday. It was the last day on the main beach until October.

Nell: Yes, it’s River Beach for us dogs until then.

Me: I noticed you were keeping a very close eye on Alice.

Nell: I always do. She’s my girl too, you know.

Me: I’m going to miss her so much.

Nell: I know you are but she’ll be back soon. Now, today is 1st May. So, if anyone would like to support your writing they can click on the link here and buy you a cup of Earl Grey. https://www.buymeacoffee.com/saramartin

Me: It would mean a great deal to me.

Nell: If everyone bought one you wouldn’t have to worry at all anymore.

Me: Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Nell: Well then. Let people help. You write every day.

Me: You’re right. I just hate asking.

Nell: Then leave it to me.

Me: Yes, thank you.

Nell: I promised Alice that I’d make sure you rested. You’ve had visitors non stop since Alex’s funeral and now you need time to get well and come to terms with everything.

Me: I’m not sure I’m ever going to do that.

Nell: You will. Trust me. It does get easier. One step at a time.

Me: Yes. Sorry.