A new child in the house always provokes a change amongst the other children.
This usually can be managed with some judicial acts of " being spoilt" .......for every baby needs to feel that they are your world's centre.
Boxing Day evening was a case in point. The Prof was asleep in his arm chair and the terriers were all heaped on the sofa snoring quietly. Only Winnie and I were awake.
I was curled up in the only dog free sofa area and Winnie was sitting quietly in front of the log burner, watching the fire with sombre eyes.
Mary has been running Winnie ragged over Christmas and from time to time the old girl has been looking somewhat fraught what with sharp puppy teeth pulling fat folds of face at every turn and even though she has been gentle with the puppy like a hippo who has taken ballet lessons , I thought it was time for a treat.
I waved silently at Winnie and pointed to the kitchen, after making a sort of pantomime for her to be quiet ( a gesture that I was sure she understood).We tip toed out of the living room together and she watched me carefully as I rooted in the fridge for the remains of the turkey and pulled out the remaining pigs in blankets which surrounded it.
Now, I am not sure if " pigs in blankets" are purely a British phenomenon , but if they are ( and for the benefit of overseas visitors) all I shall say that they are delicious miniature chipolata sausages which have been wrapped in bacon-( bloody lovely they are too)
Anyhow I grabbed five " pigs" and tipped the lot into Winnie's gin trap mouth and moments later we were sat back in the quiet living room. She in front of the fire licking the turkey fat from her lips and me cramped on the couch.
No one in the cottage were any the wiser.
After a few minutes of lip smacking , Winnie heaved herself up again and walked up to me slowly.
She placed two saucer sized paws on the couch cushion , stood up and planted a long wet sausage smelling kiss onto my face.
She knew she was back on top in the favourite baby tables.