Love at first lick

Four months ago, it was love at first lick. The squiggly ball of fur named Sherlock has learned a lot as he develops into an adult dog, including which TV programs catch his interest (those with barking have priority) but there’s still room for improvement.

I had no worry about his comportment when I decided to have a cup of tea at La Noisette with Lydia even if it were marché day crowded. Not like a month ago in a Japanese restaurant in Geneva. He settled quietly at our feet, surrounded by…what was that green stuff all over the floor?

Sherlock was enjoying the spinach he had pulled from her shopping basket. We cleaned it up, not wanting the owner Amadine to have to deal with it. For the rest of the time I kept watching him as he watched my neighbors shopping basket with the sausage sticking out.

I still am not sure where he found the fork that he put in his horde, the place next to our bed where he stashes his toys and treasures. It might have been the dishwasher, but I thought I’d watched him every minute while he was in the kitchen.

Another mystery: Rick is in Florida. I went to sleep on my side of the bed and Sherlock was on the couch in the living room. In the morning, I was almost falling off Rick’s side of the bed.

Curled up next to my back was Sherlock. How does a six-kilo pup push a 60-kilo woman across a good side bed in the middle of the night?

Doesn't matter. He will continue to mature, and I will continue to adore him.