Rick is still a bit unsettled here in England. Kat came home last night for a few days’ leave and he was ecstatic, some consolation for leaving his French home.
He has a new, cosy winter bed that he loves, and a new squeaky toy pig that he totally ignores.
This morning was his first dog training class; Paul was more nervous than Rick. We drove to the parish hall at Stanton St Quinton, a small village way out in the countryside. Bea, the dog trainer, seemed very young (about twelve years old) but very confident and knowledgeable. Rick was very good with the other dogs but seemed to have trouble walking on the slippery hall floor, he looked like a novice ice skater. He did very well with his lesson and only disgraced himself once when he cocked his leg against the wall.
On Friday Bea is coming to us to give him a one-to-one session. I’m not totally convinced she will be able to convince Rick that cyclists and joggers are not juicy targets for him to chase.