Giles' dog Jake has been visiting this week. He's the posh one, the Bichon Frise, although he looks rather like a mophead at the moment, hence my new name for him.
He arrived last Thursday and it was then that we discovered that Paddy is gay. It may have been the two hours he spent pursuing Jake in a considerably gay fashion that gave the game away. Maybe he had an abusive puppyhood but he didn't seem to realise that playing did not automatically have to be sexual in nature. However, Jake has been fighting his corner and Paddy is learning - gradually.
Other than that, they get on fine. Problems arise when it's time for a walk. Taking the two of them together is not easy on the nerves. Paddy pulls frantically on the lead if there is a cat within a two mile radius and Jake is just frantic because he's ecstatic at the idea of going for a walk (it doesn't happen at home) and follows a route which inevitably criss-crosses continually under my feet.
So, walks had to be taken separately. Taking Jake first seemed a good idea. He only has little legs and doesn't need to go far. The problem there is that, during our absence, Paddy hurls himself inconsolably at the window and whines continually until we return. So, we bite the bullet. I take them both round the block and Jake then stays at home quite contentedly while I take Paddy for his marathon.
But I can't say I'll be sorry when it's just Paddy again.