Our dog, Melville, is a hero. Not really but you would not know that if you were to talk to our neighbour’s six-year-old daughter. I did not have the heart to tell her Melville (breed unknown and it doesn’t matter) likes to pull things from under other things. These underthings are usually buried by Melville. How Sasha, the six-year-old, never sees this is amazing; she is a stalker.
Melville is pretty much a decent god even with the burying habit. Did I say “god”? Yes, I did. Divine and I do not treat him in such a way, yet for some reason when you meet him, you are compelled to leave offerings. Don’t. They will either be buried under planters or left underfoot.
Melville was toilet trained when we got him. I am very thankful for that as it has been colder than all get out these last couple of weeks. I don’t know how long our relationship would last if I had to spend two o’clock in the morning outside to watch Melville take a wee in the dark.