yeah, I'm house-sitting again

Jack's an old guy, steady and calm, who brings to mind words like stout, jolly and fellow. Daydreaming next to him conjures associations with old England, country walks and game hunting.

Open and friendly to all, he makes no unnecessary noise, just catching his breath and reminding you he's there when there's a chance some of that food could be for him. Gentle nudges with his head show you he expects a bit of effort on your part, and when he gets a stroke and a pat, the pleasure shows through his eyes, and the enthusiastic stump that waves back and forward, as a puppy's might.

Mornings, we tramp through the long damp grass, him running ahead with newly discovered youth. His excitement at bushes and lamposts only fades as we near the house again. His breathing becomes more laboured and his gait more restrained.

A grateful glance up from his lopsided face as I open the gate and we're back. A quick drink and then a heavy slump onto his cushion. Deep sighs slowing his breathing until he's asleep, with another day to dream away.