Galahad has no vices; his heart is pure and he loves, loves, loves with deep loyal devotion. (He did steal a cheese scone off an antique porcelain plate on Thursday evening while we gathered for Bible Study. But his repentence followed quickly after the last crumb and he had no silly hangups about accepting forgiveness!)
Sir Galahad and Elvis Machele, my twice a week gardener, share a mutual devotion. Elvis insists on downing tools to accompany us on any visit to the vet: to hold Gal's paw and stroke his head during undignified procedures.
If you come a-visiting to Thatchwick, Gal will follow you adoringly, squeeze in next to your chair, stare into your eyes with deep brown pools of doggy emotion and try to climb onto your lap - all 35 kg of him. Because, as you know, inside every hefty fullgrown male Lab is a tiny puppy just ready for a cuddle!
Now above is the real man, Sir Galahad, son of Launcelot and Elaine, who quested for and found the Holy Grail. A perfect knight, he never stole a cheese scone in his life, but personally I prefer my doggy hero.
(OK, Trist, OK! I know this blog is starting to get soppy. I'll do a real macho one about you next week and the history of the Terrible Picts.)