Apparently my older brother Rupert cries in the car home when his humans pick him up from a stay with his relatives at Craigmancie Foxies.
I, Nobby, am of course made of sterner stuff, and although I have to admit I did love having the run of the farmyard with five other wire-haired fox terriers, particularly enjoying the relaxed regime of no grooming or baths, I was also pleased to see Gail after her 18 days away.
So Gail wants me to tell you all about her Cuba cycling tour. I had to remind her that my readership is interested primarily in dogs not bicycles, and I did notice on her phone a few pictures of the pups she encountered on her travels around the island.
I have concluded that in communist Cuba, whether you are a human or a stray canine, it pays to have the support of the Party.
See here this rather handsome state-sanctioned resident of La Habana Vieja (Old Havana). He gets to wander the streets at will, receives food and medical care courtesy of the government, and his tag bears an instruction not to maltreat him.
Contrast him with those pups who have to take their chances in the private sector. They might get relatively lucky and live a life of freedom and benign neglect, in town or country.
Or they might end up like this poor fellow. Or worse. (Gail says a the condition of some of the dogs was too distressing to photograph.)
Not a difficult choice is it?
But in truth, I am happy to be in Scotland, where most of us dogs live comfortable lives in a beautiful country with an agreeably cool climate.
I might even consent to a bath this evening.
