On Monday morning the Celt woke me with a kiss, a card and the news that I'd have to get out of bed pretty smartish because my birthday present was arriving at La Guardia within two hours. A little too bleary-eyed to laugh then, I've been laughing at his antics ever since I saw his serious grey eyes at Delta Cargo.
A fourteen-week-old, pedigreed, fawn-coloured whippet who I named after a favourite, beautifully drawn, yet minor character in Georgette Heyer's
A Quiet Gentleman, Mr Barny Warboys. I have no idea what his official name is (I could read his documents, of course) but dear readers please meet the second member of my family that so far has not bored me silly. The Celt, the other, has never bored me once in almost thirty-seven years.
(I hope he can say the same.)
Barny
His first walk in Central Park NYC did not last long
I carried him till we sat and he fell asleep in my lap
Barny and the Celt
In Central Park NYC
The answer then, to the question "should I laugh or cry" is obvious I hope – I'm laughing all the way
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again.
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark up above
The sun's in my heart
And I'm ready for love
