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A Tale of True Love on Valentine's





'What a creaky lift that was. But, let's remember, the hotel is originally ever so old.' As she pushed the buggy down the hotel corridor, the woman reassured her toddler. 'But it does look cute.' Not sounding as though she really believed herself. 'Oh, we go this way. There will be lots of people here this weekend, with the date. We mustn't forget our exercises, so we can have ourselves a bit of a cheat-treat.' From her build and the sportswear, I assumed the woman was a PT. 'You'll enjoy yourself. Ooh, brace yourself, Rico, a bit of manoeuvring...'

She turned at the end of the corridor. 

Rico wasn't a toddler. 

It was a pug. 

In its buggy. 



'This is Rico. I'm Jill. He's a rescue pug. Fawn.'

'Iestyn. Variety turn. Sitting in the hotel lobby, like Miss Marple, watching the comings and goings.'

'I'm a peripatetic masseuse for top sports teams.' 

I felt there was a dichotomy between Jill's physical impressiveness and her chatty kindliness. 

Imagine Jane Austen's Miss Bates being built like Cat Woman.

And, goodness, how the peripatetic have proliferated. When I was a child in the nineteen seventies, only certain blue collar workers, piano tuners, Avon Ladies, insurance salesmen, rag and bone men, Jehovah’s Witnesses, tinkers and exorcists were peripatetic. Today we have peripatetic burlesque and taxidermy.

Never, we would hope, as a package deal. 


Whenever Jill mentioned any of the sports teams she worked with (only in passing while she was discussing Rico: all her conversation was based around Rico) she would mouth the name. 

'I've been able again to take Rico on the Pet Express. I was on my way to work with Bayern Munich. That's one of the places I had such an issue with the wives and girlfriends. I can be trusted, totally, but they're just so bloody thick and common. Rico likes you! I am pleased to see that. A lot of people think he looks funny. It's that thing - there - he does with his tongue.' Rico had just turned his eyes full on me, wheezing his approval of my under-chin-chucking. 'He's my everything. Four years ago the boyfriend said to me, "It's me or the dog" - right, then, easy decision made, there.' Her laugh was a full-body spasm. 'When I rescued Rico (I was working with Bristol Rovers at the time,) he had cigarette burns on his little face. Can you believe what people will do?' Interestingly, she didn't look especially traumatised just now. 'Also, a bit of an issue with the fur around his right hip. At the rescue centre they actually told me they thought I might be better off buying. I was appalled!' She looked it, eyes widening in the direction of the Steyne, with its statue of the boy holding the fishes. 'I told them, "We adopt, we don't shop". The Pet Express mustn't get too big -  they have three buses just now - or like with everything else, their prices will go shooting up. And Rico likes his little treats. Meat, for example. Oh, yes. You might think, as I'm a strict Vegan myself, I'd foist that on him. But no - I cook him his proper breast of chicken.' Rico stopped wheezing briefly hearing the word 'chicken'. 'He's fourteen now, nearly fifteen, so as far as we can, we're upping the ante with his treats. And with the offer on here, it was a no-brainer bringing him for Valentine's weekend.'


She fetched herself a coffee, asked the receptionist permission to take the cup 'just immediately outside, I won't stray', then pushed Rico across the road towards the Steyne Gardens. 

'Here we go, just a bumpsy down off the kerb, Rico. Look at the lovely flowers. I expect we're curious what the statue is of, Rico? I do hope you'll like it.'


Love. Real love. 

Which is what today is all about. 




#valentines #dogs #love #rescuedogs


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