I once went on holiday with a group of people from a church. Of course at my side was my ever faithful, opportunist Retriever guide dog Wheat. She was well used to being photographed because I’d done speaking for guide dogs.
We once went to a pub where we received a cheque from a group of railway workers who’d collected for Guide Dogs. However that’s a story for another day. Wheat saw this family with their camera while she was lying next to me on the sand. Suddenly and unexpectedly she jumped up in the air as if all the hounds of hell were in hot pursuit, ran away from me and ensconced herself with this family. There was I shouting:
“Wheat! Wheat! Come back here at once”,
totally the wrong phrase to use but my panic had made me forget my training so thoroughly given at the Guide Dog Training centre. The curate’s wife said:
“Don’t worry! She’s spotted a camera and is sitting among the people waiting to have her photo taken with them”.
Feeling left out but more importantly wanting to be with my dog, I staggered to my feet and endeavoured to find my way to my errant dog’s side only to be told by the family when I suggested I hold her lead:
“Oh no dear it’s all right. We’ll just have the dog if you don’t mind”.
Knowing my place I flopped down dejectedly on the sand thinking:
“Oh well I can’t be as good looking as I thought I was”!
Eventually she came back after posing for the camera, flopped down on the sand beside me, sighed and wagged her silly old tail. You may be the one whose photograph album she’s in. If you are let me tell you I’ve not forgotten you. Wheat died in 1998, having retired early because when I moved I couldn’t take her with me, and let me tell you something else too, if I become famous as a writer you’ll be sorry you didn’t have the other half of the dynamic duo in your photo album. Never mind! I bear no ill will to you and may give you my autograph and a copy of my first book.
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