Me: It’s always a lovely moment in the activity field when the puppies hear us calling them from the other side and come running towards us.
Nell: They’re not puppies. David and Harriet will be 7 in June and you were doing the calling, by the way. I gave a single bark.
Me: I know, Miss Grumpy Guts.
Nell: Mrs Grumpy Guts. Charlie and I were married. Remember?
Me: Do you still miss him?
Nell: Every day. But life goes on. It has to.
Me: Have you ever considered marrying again?
Nell: Never you mind.
Me: I was just wondering.
Nell: Someone has to ask me first.
Me: Knitwear Wolf would marry you in a heartbeat. And so would Lionel King.
Nell: Moving on, I’m glad to see Lionel’s doing well under Herr Hoffmann’s tutelage. His mane is clean and brushed and his eyes are brighter.
Me: Tutelage. That’s a very good word.
Nell: Thank you.
Me: Hoff has taken quite a few troubled souls under his wing recently.
Nell: Bears don’t have wings.
Me: Hoff does.
Nell: Don’t call him Hoff, please.
Me: Everyone does. He loves it.
Nell: Personally, I would like to be able to go out in the garden without encountering a line of Beefies waiting to be fed.
Me: They are here a lot.
Nell: It’s very tiresome. I shall be glad when the weather improves and they can go and torment the grockles at the quay.
Me: Did you just say ‘grockles’?
Nell: I meant tourists.
Me: You’re becoming a proper Devon lass now, using the local lingo.
Nell: We’ll have been here 7 years in November. The puppies really were puppies when we moved down here.
Me: And Mutley and Poppy were still with us.
Nell: They still are. Always.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
