Have I Got Dogs for You!: Life Among the Dog People of Paddington Rec, Vol. Ii

Have I Got Dogs for You!

Life Among The Dog People of Paddington Rec, Vol. II

Anthony Linick

AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

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© 2010 Anthony Linick. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/17/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4490-6319-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-2376-4 (ebk)

Contents

INTRODUCTION

Chapter One:

Chapter Two:

Chapter Three:

Chapter Four:

Chapter Five:

Chapter Six:

Chapter Seven:

Chapter Eight:

Chapter Nine:

Chapter Ten:

Chapter Eleven:

Chapter Twelve:

About the Author

INTRODUCTION

When I first began to record my impressions of life among the dog owners in my local park I had no idea that one day my journal might actually reach the point of print. Strictly Come Barking, published in 2007, altered this perception. The response to this volume, particularly from many of those whose stories it contained, encouraged me to persist in my observations – and thus we can see a sequel, a second instalment of Life Among the Dog People of Paddington Rec – Have I Got Dogs For You!

Not everyone was thrilled by the description I provided for his or her animal in Volume I, and I can understand why. My view of our local dogs is restricted to the hour or so I see them alone, at play, or in interaction with one another, and there is little I can say about the other hours of the day, when all the loyalty and love we associate with dog ownership holds sway. On the other hand people were far more generous in acceptance of their own portraits in this narrative, though here I can say that perhaps they noted that I never spared myself in such portraiture. I have continued to use only first names, except for celebrities, major and minor, though in every other way I have tried to make this chronicle an accurate reflection of the times as we lived through them. I have also continued to used British spelling and, for inconsistency’s sake, American punctuation.

I need to thank many people for their generous participation in this project: the dog owners themselves (many of whom have had a chance to read this work in preparation) and all those who supplied me with photographs. I wish to thank Rob Taggart for his work with the photographs especially; his picture of Pepper appears on the cover. As well, I need to offer my enduring thanks to all those who have helped to make Paddington Rec the oasis that it has continued to be: the management, the gardeners, the café staff, the wise heads at city hall.

Enough by way of introduction. Let the tale begin and the tails wag.

Anthony Linick

London

September, 2009

Chapter One:

June, 2005:

Wednesday, June 1:

Getting started is a truly slow process. At home our Fritz always seems so eager to join his pals in the park – but as soon as we reach the first gate he is engulfed in a swoon of enchantment at the first good sniff and thereafter each blade of grass and every low-lying bush needs to be sampled in turn. This morning our progress is further impeded by the quick arrival of his kinsman, Pepper, heading in the opposite direction. Fritz is just settling into a comfortable squat against a black trash bag, abandoned in the walkway, when he is broadsided, mid-grunt, by his pal. I would say that here we have not one but two inappropriate gestures but then Fritz and Pepper are both Miniature Schnauzers and, as such, they are always up to some mischief.

No sooner have I scooped up the offending ordure than Mrs. Margaret Gaines proffers her hand, "It is Dr. Linick, isn’t it?" I am being greeted by an American School mom, the parent of two former students whose academic progress in America must now be accounted for. No wonder Fritz and I are late arrivals on the green of Paddington Recreation Ground.

Almost immediately Fritz is jumped by another special pal, the mostly Yorkie Charlie, and they are off on their rambles and wrestles. Michael, Charlie’s owner, the man we could call the king of our park because of his role in making all dog owners welcome here, is deep in conversation with the owner of Tara, the Kerry Blue. Also present are Winnie the Pug and her co-owner Dan, Sparkie – a Yorkie youngster – accompanied by his owner, Georgie and by her sister Jean, old Albert with the mostly Lab Ryan, and Ronnie with Rosie, the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Most of these people now head for an early coffee at the café in the centre of the park. Michael and I like to get a little more exercise out of our pets but we too succumb after half an hour and find the others jammed around a large table under the eaves of the café – it is a grey, chilly, threatening morning. Michael pulls up a little table as a kind of outrider and we sit down. Hanna is already here with her dogs, George and Spadge, and Dan’s partner Davide soon joins us, as does my wife Dorothy. We even have two non-owners, young Sue (well, she is younger than the other Sues we know) and the visiting Anne from Australia – they come every morning just to be part of the unique society of dog people who inhabit the grasslands of Paddington Rec every morning between 9:00 and 10:30.

Today is Winnie’s second birthday and she is certainly very prominent in the tribe of canines settled at Michael’s feet for the ingestion of morsels of toast and sausage. She is the special favourite of Elion, the chef, who now brings an extra sausage as a birthday gift. Michael has a unique charisma as a purveyor of doggie treats, making each animal sit calmly, wait his or her turn, behave like a proper dog. This doesn’t prevent the birthday girl from shouldering the other contenders aside – switching from one side of the queue to the other in order to increase her chances – nor from showing occasional signs of ill-temper when thwarted. Today Michael twice announces, All finished! as he completes a plate of titbits – only to have a disappointed Winnie turn immediately to the next dog (Charlie today) in order to vent her frustrations by boxing his ears.

I count eleven people in the long line that forms for the exit walk. Dan has brought a small soccer ball with him and the dogs enjoy chasing this along the pathways, but as we near the Essendine gate there is an incident. Fritz is a great ball hawk and his passion for this toy conflicts with Winnie’s sense of ownership. Pretty soon there is an angry interchange between the two animals (a phenomenon not that rare when it comes to the feisty Pug) and Dan has to step in to separate the contestants. I am no use, since I have been laughing throughout this exchange. Collared himself, Fritz is lead from the park after a very pleasant morning interlude. The sun has even agreed to make a belated appearance.

Thursday, June 2:

There is a threat of rain in the air and this is disquieting as I have brought neither cap nor brolly to the park, intending to make a quick departure for the dentist – where such objects would soon be forgotten. Fortunately, the green, which we reach in far speedier fashion today, is dry these days and I can at least wear a decent pair of shoes.

The early crowd disappears into the café almost as soon as I arrive and for a while Michael and I are all alone out here, but then another canine wave arrives, bringing with it the energetic presence of Pepper. Young Liam, on school holiday, is here too and he has taken to calling Fritz Fritters. Almost immediately the lad begins agitating for muffin money and when Linda, who would really like to see him devoting more time to exercising his dog, gives way at last, he too disappears into the café and in a few minutes we see him sitting by himself in the little metal gazebo eating his prize. There’s an only child for you, Linda says.

The little dogs have a splendid play period, interrupted only briefly when Winnie arrives and takes umbrage at the idea of sharing. You’ll never get to be Miss Congeniality at this rate, I say. Fritz is enchanted when I mention that I can see his Mommy coming, and he searches the horizon anxiously. When he at last spots her he rushes off joyously, followed by Pepper, who also has to give his greeting. Unfortunately Pepper uses his puppy teeth to accomplish this gesture so that Dorothy arrives in our circle with a punctured hand. I try to make a discrete exit, but Fritz spots me and tries to follow – so he has to go back on lead. An hour and a half later and very much numb of lip I walk back through the park on my way home. Michael is still here with Charlie.

Friday, June 3:

The sun is struggling to make an appearance but the temperature is pleasant enough as Fritz and I make our way out to the green on this Friday morning. There are a few new characters about, a rescue dog from Ireland (via the Mayhew Home) named Paddy (the pet of Paul McCartney’s daughter, Mary) and a little white Poodle named Sweep. Paddy is mostly Beagle, we all agree, and, though not even four months old, he throws himself into the melee with enthusiasm – while his new mom takes pictures. Dan has brought quite a variety of toys for Winnie to play with and he has to calm her down only once. When he leaves behind a soft rubber ball actually belonging to Koko, Janet’s Shih-Tzu, Fritz is entranced and, while the other dogs race about, my dog is content to sit on the grass and chew on the toy compulsively.

John, the man of all trades, wanders onto the green wearing his Swiss military cap; he is followed by the large Alsatian, Ché, and the latter is soon hectoring poor Pepper, who seems to be a special favourite of a number of the males these days. Parked in front of the loos is Tanya in her animal warden van; both Linda and I stop off here for a supply of poo poo bags – and then it is time to join the early crowd at coffee. We are followed into the café forecourt by John and the inevitable happens – Ché squats among the rosebushes and has a poo, a local outrage that John will not be allowed to ignore by any of the other law-abiding dog owners. To his credit, John is always ready to clean up his dog’s mess.

The sausage and toast keep on coming but Fritz can’t be enticed into ingesting any of this because he still has Koko’s rubber ball in his mouth. On one occasion I put it in a front pocket and he manages to insert his snout into this hiding place and pull it back out. Sue tries to pick it up whenever he drops it, but he’s too fast. Finally Georgie gets hold of it and it stays for the rest of the session in her jacket pocket. I find Fritz’s obsessive behaviour merely amusing, as do most of the other coffee drinkers, but Dorothy is embarrassed by his rubber fetish. She has a better opportunity to join the rest of us in our admiration when Fritz finally imitates Charlie, jumping up on a bench for the first time in order to be re-hooked for the return journey.

Saturday, June 4:

Shortly before Fritz and I hit the streets Michael calls to say that Charlie is poorly and that the little fellow will go to the vet this morning at 11:00. This means that Fritz spends a good deal of time staring at the corners of the green, searching for his pal – to no avail. Then he does the same thing as he hunts for Dorothy, who is preparing instead to head for Portobello and some fruit and veg shopping this morning. There are plenty of other dogs to play with and lots of little boys who cross the park on their way to some football competition. Not a few cast baleful glances in the direction of the dogs – as though fate had decreed that today they must fall beneath the fangs of a Shih-Tzu.

The others go in after twenty minutes or so but just as they do so I see Tony and Jean-Baptiste heading toward us with the recovering Cocker, Hercules. Tony is full of complaint about the costs of the latest stomach upset – gastro-enteritis – an illness which required the injection of liquid chalk down the dog’s throat. When it comes to antibiotics, Hercules, Tony now says, just say ‘No!’ Hercules has brought a Frisbee with him and Pepper and Fritz have a good time fighting over it.

Tony and I have a thorough discussion over the present state of that one block on Kensington Park Road where Tony’s Between The Sheets closed its doors twenty-two years ago. I observe that not a single establishment on either side of the street remains from the time when this was our place of work (and, for Dorothy and me, our home as well) – even the church has changed denominations. A discussion of the parade of eateries that have succeeded one another here leads Linda to describe a recent culinary disaster in her own kitchen. I always say, Tony responds, "that you can fix anything with lots of olive oil and garlic. No, no, Jean-Baptiste interrupts, In France we say ze same thing, only it’s white wine and cream." The morning, a rather grey blustery day, is not made any more pleasant by a hovering helicopter a few blocks away. There is some speculation that the presence of this eye in the sky may be related to the possible abduction of a baby on the Harrow Road but the chopper seems to have stationed itself over Lord’s Cricket Ground. The morning passes cheerily enough in spite of this ominous presence and after an hour we head for the exit gates, failing to pause at the café even once.

Sunday, June 5:

It is still grey on this quiet Sunday morning but the turnout is respectable enough when we reach the green – if we don’t count the notable exception of Charlie, who is at home with a bad case of the kennel cough. The other owners are huddled together in a knot, admiring a collage that Janet has just made with her photo shop equipment, a composite picture of all the dogs (and most of their owners) which she has just given to our visiting Australian, Anne.

Again Fritz attaches himself to a variety of rubber toys, this time showing particular preference for a yellow and red hedgehog belonging to Winnie. This means that he doesn’t get in nearly enough exercise, moving only when one of the other animals – like Skye, the Cairn (just returned from his holiday in Cornwall) pinches the toy when he isn’t looking. The other little dogs are very active – Tilly the Border Terrier and Nelson the Boston Terrier are contesting a yellow ball on a rope: pick it up and you will get either of these dogs still holding onto the other end in mid-air. Sparkie is trying to tempt Nelson into a contest over a green tennis ball – by barking in his pal’s face hysterically. All of a sudden there is a young Schnauzer in our midst and when Dorothy arrives we climb up to a bench where this dog’s owner sits with three other canines. The Schnauzer is named Monty and he is adorable; he looks a lot like Fritz, only slightly smaller, not even one year old.

There is a lot of confusion over toast and sausage orders in the café and Dorothy has to do the honours in the absence of Michael. Fritz agrees to part with his toy just long enough to ingest some of these treats. I deliver a slice of toast to Hanna for George and Spadge. She tells me that, following a circular from the borough on the subject of anti-social behaviour, she has indeed called the police last night when a gang of Balkan youths were seen lurking in and near the park late at night. Dorothy and I decide to take the more direct route home today – another change of habit due to Michael’s absence – but first there is the problem of Winnie’s toy in Fritz’s mouth. Would he like to borrow it? Dan asks. Yes, I respond somewhat shamefacedly, unable to extract the rubber from the teeth, we’ll have to consider establishing a lending library for dog toys.

Monday, June 6:

There is a hint of mist in the air and I am wearing my rain jacket for this morning’s session on the green. Again our group is visited briefly by an interloper, in this case by Suki, the wildly enthusiastic Vizsla, who whips everyone with her wagging tail before leaving with the blonde woman, a friend of Hanna’s, who must be numbered among the park’s regular dog walkers.

Fritz does a bit more running this morning, often agreeing to chase down his green rubber ball or the Frisbee belonging to fellow Schnauzer, Yoyo, but he misses his pals Charlie and Pepper. Yoyo, who belongs to the newlyweds Tim and Lizzie, is another Miniature Schnauzer, though black in colour; she has a lively, even feisty personality and a mind of her own. The other dog owners seem to be a bit more patient with their pets today and there is no mass exodus to the café until we have all been out here for forty minutes or so. Jo Lynn, Tilly’s mistress, asks Tony how his training in psychology transfers to the canine world. Tony says he sees some of the same traits – jealousy, egomania – both here and in his consulting room. And he’s only talking about the owners.

Even though I am intending to have my coffee at the Starbucks outside the Ladbroke Grove Sainsbury’s I join the others at the café so that Fritz can have his portion of sausage and toast. The conversation touches on whether ferrets and chinchillas make good pets, the unpleasantness associated with any form of physical exercise, and the ubiquity of Ronnie’s cigar smoke. Chilled, I make an early start for the gates and soon thereafter Dorothy and I are walking down the Harrow Road – where we are captured for a sound bite on BBC Radio Five by a reporter who wants to know our reactions to the purloined baby story.

Tuesday, June 7:

Did the police ever come? This is the first question I put to Hanna, who has taken up a solitary table at the front of the café forecourt. I am referring to a meeting that took place on the corner of Grantully and Morshead during my late night dog walk when I learned that she had just registered a plea for assistance because of the presence of another lurking gang of young people – squatted down in the entryway of a parkside mansion block, smoking dope and staring at passers-by malevolently. Afraid to walk past them with Spadge, and still needing to take George out, Hanna was obviously upset and so I walked her around the block to her door. The gang was still there when Fritz and I passed the place a few minutes later. I don’t know if the police ever came.

Out on the green the lamblike Bedlingtons, Archie and Molly, are gamboling about and they are joined by Sparkie and Skye. Fritz agrees to chase his ball a bit but he again misses Pepper and Charlie. Michaela says that she ran into Michael and Charlie this morning and that Charlie has stopped coughing, though it will be some time before he returns to the park. It is slightly chilly but the sun is nice and bright and – had there been more dogs present – I would have stayed out here longer, but I have errands to run so Fritz and I join the others for an early coffee.

Inspired by our discussion of last night’s episode of New Tricks, Ronnie launches into a ramble down the memory lane of life in the jewellery trade. This is quite amusing and there are many tales of desperate characters and dubious deals. I used to say that there was a sewer running down the middle of Hatton Garden, Ronnie concludes, walk down the right side or the left side and you were okay but if you stepped into the middle you were in deep trouble. In the absence of Michael I have to order my own coffee and some toast for the dogs. These consumed, I then head for the gate alone, reminding everyone that Fritz and I will be among the missing tomorrow – as it will be time for the Schnauzer’s appointment at the beauty parlour in St. John’s Wood.

Thursday, June 9:

Having missed a day in the park because of his visit to St. John’s Pets, our entrance today is therefore the first time that the other owners have been able to see Fritz as an unshaggy dog in some time. He looks wonderful and people keep commenting on his stylish cut and reaching out to stroke his silky fur. In fact the Schnauzers are having a convention on the green on this warm and sunny morning. The Satanic Yoyo is here, the irrepressible Pepper is here and, making her second visit to our group, here comes the lovely Floss, a petite eight year-old from Hong Kong. There is a strange affinity among the Schnauzers; once I look up to see that all four of these dogs have formed a small pack and are all by themselves on the flanks of Mt. Bannister. (Only I, remember, call this artificial hump after Roger Bannister, who practiced for the first four-minute mile on the old Paddington Rec track). While Fritz is occupied elsewhere I am able to return to Dan the rubber hedgehog that Fritz borrowed the other day. I had kept it hidden in my desk drawer but every time I opened the latter a suspicious dog had appeared, sniffing expectantly.

We now expect Michael to return with Charlie on Saturday and I must say that the two are really missed. Fritz does some ball chasing but his heart is really not in it. The ball ends up in Prince’s mouth a few times, but the Great Dane, always eager for play with someone his own size, finds a companion in Harry, a black Alsatianate dog, who tries to box his ears.

At coffee I officially recognize the arrival of summer by getting a bottle of still water from the caff, rather than my usual cup of decaf. Also present at our table today is the other Ryan, the beautiful Husky with the pale blue eyes. I end up distributing the toast today and I must say that Ryan (real name Orion) has a very gentle manner when approaching a titbit with his teeth. Hanna is sitting behind us quizzing Colin the park keeper on his latest chore, cleaning graffiti from a sign on the café fence. There is no parade along the back passage, another tradition that requires Michael, and so I keep Fritz on lead as we head for the Morshead gate.

Friday, June 10:

We continue to have warm weather as Fritz and I make our way toward the green, the dog depositing a sloppy poo in the process. There aren’t many dog owners about – just hundreds of kids at the beginning of another screaming sports day. Dan arrives with his goody bag and almost immediately he produces from its depth the famous hedgehog. This means that Fritz will only be exercising his jaws for the next few minutes and thereafter Dan puts it away and produces a little floppy rubber ball in green – which Fritz accepts as a poor substitute.

At least the other dogs get a chance to play with this toy too, though Fritz exercises his imperious growl whenever anyone comes near it. For that matter he growls several times at the rambunctious Harry, who is mixing it up with some of the smaller dogs. Once Fritz chases the big black dog away from Hercules, whom he has chosen to protect today. The other owners are vastly amused by the antics of my dog, still boss of the park. There is a newcomer today, an eight month-old Basset Vendeen named Shirley – get it, Shirley Bassey, Shirley Basset? The large pup enjoys socializing with the other dogs and no one says anything mean to her.

Dan and I go in to coffee but when Dan hangs his bag on a chair Fritz sticks his head inside – and steals the hedgehog! Unfortunately the toy belongs to Winnie – who doesn’t share any more readily than Fritz does – and there is a major scrap under the table. Then Pepper makes an appearance, which means that the lovesick Sparkie begins agitating for a chance to hump his pal, barking hysterically until Linda takes her pet out of sight. In spite of all this noise we manage to drink some coffee.

Saturday, June 11:

The skies can’t make up their minds today and it’s chillier than I expected when I chose to wear a short-sleeved shirt only. As we near the green I catch the familiar sight of Michael and Charlie, absent a week now, and Fritz is thrilled to discover his old pal back at play again.

There is a respectable turnout today and little Lisa (whom we have somehow started to call Patsy Kensit Jr.) is here with her dad, an American with a bandage around one knee, and little Zara, the King Charles Spaniel – who has grown quite a bit since we last saw her. Fonzi is here and it really is difficult to tell which dog we are looking at, particularly at some distance, since Charlie, Fonzie and Sparkie all share a common Yorkie gene or two. Michael is keen to show Charlie that the usual rules still apply and on several occasions he enters the café in order to extract his dog and lead him back onto the green. Meanwhile we learn that Winnie now has kennel cough.

When we are all settled for coffee Dorothy joins us as well. Michael receives many complements on his haircut, self-administered, and this leads Sue to say that she doesn’t own a hairbrush, though her pet rats used to have their own. She is looking for work these days and so we suggest that rat brushing might be added to her resumé. At the end I get up to place some Marks and Spencer crouton crumbs on the parapet for the robin, but a fat pigeon squats on the prize instead and enjoys a feast.

Sunday, June 12:

Again it looks like rain – though none materializes while we are in the park and the sun makes an appearance after an hour. A reddish Husky-type dog named Skye is brought onto the green (the black Toy Poodle Sky is also here). Pepper bounces out to greet all his pals, exciting Sparkie’s lust in the process. Ofra, whose birthday this is, arrives with Bailey, the elusive King Charles, and the dogs have a good romp, all little fellows again today.

At one point Fritz leaves the scene and wanders over to the walkway where a kick-boxing amazon is lashing out at the protective shield of her trainer. I can see my dog backing his rear up against a tree and so I head this way, ready to do my duty in the poo poo pickup scene. Unfortunately it’s not too easy to pick up such poo, and my Fritz’s elevated posture against the tree bark means that the gloop has had a good chance to soak into his bum. This unpretty picture is brought to my attention by a number of offended witnesses over the next few minutes – and then it’s time to go in for coffee.

Linda joins us this time, even though this means that Sparkie begins to bark in rapture from the moment Pepper arrives. For that matter, ancient Otis pokes his nose in too, finding the young Schnauzer to be as fragrant as Sparkie does. Ofra is opening gifts and passing around the pastries she has purchased from an Israeli baker in Hendon. She has also paid in advance for everybody’s coffee but something happens that upsets the equation – Pepper, on a prospecting tour, leaps up to see what’s on offer on the table top and puts his paw into Ofra’s cappuccino, which comes crashing down in ceramic shards and fragrant foam onto my shoes. Linda is distraught and goes in to get a new cup for the birthday girl. The pastries are consumed and we have a discussion of famous hangovers and their cause.

Just before we begin the homeward procession Ronnie looks up and says, Fritz has a dirty bum. It’s been commented on, I reply. Then, just to keep this excremental theme alive, a pigeon, overhead, shits on Janet from a great height. Discussion follows on the topic of luck. Is it good luck if a bird shits on your shoulder – or only on your head? Janet is not amused and I feel responsible – I fed the pigeon with croutons yesterday.

Monday, June 13:

The sun is shining brightly today but it is warm only when the clouds are absent; when they cross the sky you can feel a chill wind blowing across the green. Here the little dogs again have it their own way, though they are joined by one mid-sized visitor, Shirley the Basset. When Michaela and Linda go off with Duncan, Shirley’s owner, Michael and I are left all alone on the green, the early coffee contingent having abandoned us already.

Fritz makes several visits to this group, returning each time to the centre of the green and expecting a biscuit for answering my call. He and Charlie wander off to the east end of the green and Michael and I follow them. Just as we catch up I can see Fritz backing up against a tree but when I dutifully rush forward with my poo poo bag I can see that my dog has again sprayed the tree trunk with brown gloop.

Oh well, Michael says, "no use trying to pick that up."

Just as we are about to go into the café Tony arrives with Hercules. Fritz is jealous of the attentions paid to Charlie by the Cocker but this is nothing, Tony says, to the jealousy displayed by Hercules when a toddler visited their flat this weekend. We remain on the green chatting for fifteen minutes or so and when Michael heads into the café at 10:00 I decide to go straight home. I don’t want Fritz eating any more alien food and a second mostly liquid blast from my dog’s bottom now convinces me that the next time we come into the park it will be on our way to the vets.

Tuesday, June 21:

A week or so passes as Fritz recovers from tummy troubles and I complete six days of walking in the Lake District. Hot weather has made its appearance and, so I am told, only yesterday there was a fierce thunderstorm that sent the dog owners scurrying. Today it is still warm and sunny but there is a fresh breeze and I can see that there is a large turnout on the green.

Some of the dogs are new: another ginger-coloured Cocker has arrived – his name is Fred – and a fourteen week-old black Staffie puppy named Stella is gambolling about. We also have a number of returnees, not seen in these parts for some time. First there is a Doberman named Coco, then a Puli named Lupi, and finally we have Pasha, the Weimaraner, returned from two weeks of holiday in Italy with her gloriously pregnant mom, Tanya. There is much interest in Tanya’s progress and she is surrounded by the other women in our group for the latest on scans, diet, and due dates. Everyone is hoping for the best; Tanya is a really nice young woman.

At coffee Michael appears with his hand bandaged after an encounter with Tilly’s teeth (earlier she had bitten the bottom out of my dog treat bag). Ronnie is also hors de combat after cracking a little toe on a piece of furniture. Among the dogs, Sparkie is in stitches, following his alteration at the vet’s on Friday and George is resplendent in his white coat which, yesterday, soaked up a whole bottle of shampoo. He joins in the dispersal of sausage and toast and after a pleasant morning Dorothy and I accompany Michael on our homeward journey. They have discovered a second pimpernel patch in my absence.

Wednesday, June 22:

It’s the longest day of the year, John the hippy craftsman intones, but not many people know that. They think it was the 21st, yesterday, but it’s today. The long and the short of it is that today surely is the hottest day I have experienced in the park so far this year. I am wearing shorts, sandals and a t-shirt and almost immediately I am casting my eyes at the corners of the green in search of shadier pastures.

The dogs don’t seem to mind the heat and have a jolly time running about, though I do notice that both Koko, Janet’s Shih-Tzu, and Fritz often hunker down behind Janet, who is lying on the grass and casting a shadow that provides some relief for the canine contingent. Yesterday’s Doberman, also Coco, is back today and we also have young Stella, Skye the Cairn, Rebel, Sparkie, Charlie, and Shirley Basset. Michael has brought his portable water dispenser and this is frequently produced for the benefit of the dogs. Everyone follows him over to the loos, however, for here there is some shade and a much larger water trough.

Each of the animals takes a serious gulp (Fritz using the waiting time to penetrate both of the loos) but when John’s Ché puts his foot in the trough John decides that this is a good way to cool down his pet and gets his large Alsatian to put each of his large paws into the water. He then suggests that perhaps the other dogs would like to drink from a fresh bowl and refills the trough – only for Ché to stand in it again. Michael is asked to hold John’s bag; we are told that it contains belated plans for a garden that he has been building out of his head – until the client asked to see some drawings. I tell Michael that I won’t be going in to coffee today since Dorothy and I will be walking soon to Sainsbury’s and visiting the Starbucks there and I need to head off, Fritz on lead now, in the direction of my doctor’s surgery, where I have to drop off a prescription renewal request first.

Thursday, June 23:

The torrid weather continues and you can tell that the troops on the green are thinning a bit. Charlie is here, of course, and a senior Boxer named Grace, Pepper arrives to mug Fritz, and Bailey, the King Charles, soon appears with his mom, the Israeli Ofra. Ofra throws herself down on the grass and Fritz manages to insinuate himself in the shade beneath her knees, a position he defends even against the amused woman’s own dog.

The giant Prince comes and so does Hootch with his famous thunderball, an indestructible plastic basketball of considerable weight, one that the talented pooch likes to dribble through the grass with nose and paws until it gets up enough speed to endanger all our ankles. A group of little school kids in white short-sleeved shirts and straw hats now arrives for tennis instruction. Look, one of them says in awe, It’s Soccer Dog.

There are frequent trips to the loos, where once again someone has set up a large trough (probably an empty ice cream pack) filled with water for the dogs. It helps that this object is in the shade and I notice that owners, once arrived, are reluctant to leave the protection of the trees here to venture onto the green.

I find that Ronnie and Georgie have skipped the green altogether this morning; we find him, Sue, Farrah, Anne from Australia and Hanna at a shaded table at the café. Michael, who is wearing no shirt today, winds himself up over a letter he has recently received from the police, one that notes that he may be called on to testify in a case he had called in months ago from the safety on his own front door – when two squabbling immigrant families had gotten into a barney over a parking place while dropping kids off at the nearby school, with bloodshed the result. Michael has repeatedly told investigating officers that he saw nothing and that he couldn’t identify anybody, but bureaucracy persists in listing him as a witness. It is obvious that he can’t stand the stress of all this and he soon gets up and marches off with Charlie – to cool himself down this time.

No sooner has he departed then Dan arrives in agitation as well. A careless driver has pranged his car in an impatient passing manoeuvre on Randolph Avenue and he has had to chase her onto the Westway in order to get her to stop (she still refused to share any information with him). Dan gradually calms down and