Dog log - the final chapter
We came home from our Shabbat lunch (Yes, we took our gas masks - I've decided to call them gasks for short) to find Sancho had finished off the remnants of that vanilla cake that had been sitting in the kitchen waiting (patiently) for someone so very much in need of something sweet as to not notice it was revolting. Of course, the crumbs were embedded (such a useful word) in the carpet and the cardboard cake box was in shreds all over the living room. But at least Sancho was happy at last. The girls got to take him out for a last walk ("I'm holding the leash!" "No, I'm holding the leash!" "But you held it last time!"...), before regrettably taking their leave of Sancho and going off to play with friends (Who am I kidding? They hardly said goodbye to him, or to us for that matter, in their hurry to be gone).

Sancho was delighted to see his folks, when they came for him. And there ends our dog story. Not to be continued.