Fifty isn’t old but you still can’t afford to procrastinate
But what is it that Trudy Tyler really wants from life? It’s time to sit on the sofa and make a list. By Christine Manby
I’m still dog-sitting for my boss Bella. Her cockapoo Bear is to die for, but the past fortnight has not been without its trials. Bear is not, as Bella promised, “more or less house-trained”. I don’t know whether to be pleased or horrified that in the time it takes me to realise he’s had an accident and reach for anti-bac, Bear’s usually eaten the evidence.
Gross eating habits are just the beginning. On our very first walk on Clapham Common, Bear managed to cause a major incident, by slipping his lead and making a dash for the road. The good news is, Bear was saved from certain death beneath a four-by-four by a quick-thinking jogger who grabbed his harness. The bad news is, I mistook the jogger’s Good Samaritan moment for an attempted dog-nap and alerted the rest of the park’s canine community, who quickly turned vigilante. The even worse news is, when I attended Glenn the postie’s goodbye party, I met the jogger-not-napper again. His name is Jez and he’s one of Glenn’s best friends.
Where to start.
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