Good Boy Travis/Trevor

Well, our Jo and John came back from Majorca last night. Jo said she'd collect Travis this morning, as it would be late when they got home, so I said that was fine.

We've had a good week. Travis has become one of the family while he was here and was absolutely "at home", sleeping on my bed (when I was too asleep to kick him off) and lying on the floor with Laura, her head on his flank, snoring gently. He's had lots of very long walks, been brushed until he almost shone and has been generally adored.

The only thing that didn't gel was his name. I've called him Jet/Jo/Nik/Alan/Laura/Erm/Travis, more than once but the piéce de résistance was Nik on Saturday afternoon. On one of their walks Trav mutated into Trev and, for the rest of the day, he was affectionately known as Trevor. It suits him. He was, apparently, called Tyson as a small puppy. Jo took him as a "rescue" from a clueless owner who, no doubt, wanted him to become a "hard", vicious brute. Thanks to love and good training (and his nature) he's not a Tyson - not even a Travis really - he's definitely more of a Trevor.

I'd just finished dysoning when Jo arrived, about 11 o clock. I've had to dyson every day while Travis was here, sometimes twice a day, as he is mainly white with the odd small black spot around the legs (hints of Dalmation ancestry) and dark brown ears with patches that cover his eyes (very Stafford). The white hairs shed - and show.

Jo came through the kitchen door and the serene, nonchalant Travis became a wriggling, yipping, excited, 6 year old puppy. He grinned a big, soppy, doggy grin with his tongue hanging out of one side of his mouth, danced on hind legs round his "mum" and virtually begged to be picked up and cradled in "mummy's" arms. She compromised by kneeling down to his level for a hug. Joy was unconstrained.

Jo and I had a chat about her holiday and various things. Travis sniffed the bottles of wine she'd brought as a "thank you" and said they looked OK to him but, personally, he preferred water. Then she said she'd better be off as she had washing to do.

They went out to her car, loaded down with bed, leads, food etc. Jo has a cabriolet and the top was down but, to Travis's annoyance, she put it up. Travis promptly jumped into the driver's seat and would not budge until physically shoved over to the passenger side. They drove off, Travis grinning, happily, as he stared out of the window.

It took nearly 3 hours to convince Maddie that the dog had, really, gone. She eventually came downstairs and peered round anxiously, with big round eyes, to be sure no great lolloping dog would pounce on her. Once she was sure that she was, again, an only-animal, she tucked in to a large dish of Whiskas Senior then went out into the garden. For the first time in a week she sat on the garden table, under the umbrella (her favourite place on rainy days) and dozed, eyes closed and nose twitching, for the rest of the afternoon.

The house is tidy and hair-free. There's no bone in the middle of the kitchen floor for me to trip over - but - I'm going to miss Trevor.