At the marina at the weekend, I made a new friend: Milo.
He’s fourteen years old, and as I have met his owners many times I was surprised I hadn’t met their dog. He was gazing adoringly at Thelma, but she says at home he is Ernie’s shadow. He’s known them all his life, but has only lived with them since last year, when their daughter died.
He was bought as their grandson’s dog, but he lives in a flat and works, so his grandparents were visiting Milo every day to take him for a walk and give him some company. Eventually it was decided Milo would be better moving in with them. He still goes bonkers when he sees the grandson.
Ernie and Thelma have given up theit boat and are now doing up a static caravan, so I am hoping to meet Milo again this summer.