Fifty One

‘Welcome to Claridges ladies. Can I help you?’
‘We have a table booked for three people under the name of Philippa. I called earlier to confirm it was all right to bring my dog George for tea with us’.
‘Of course Madam. You spoke to me. So this is George?’
‘Yes. I took you up on your suggestion of giving him a little alcohol this afternoon to quieten him down‘.
‘Good. It always works. This way please. You are seated at a corner table so he won’t inconvenience our other patrons. As I am sure you will appreciate not all of our other guests are equally keen on our canine friends’.
‘No, I understand’.
‘And if the alcohol starts to wear off a little champagne on the fingertips fed to him discreetly under the table usually does the trick again. Not a murmur out of them then’.
‘We’re not having champagne are we?’
‘It comes with the tea Madam’.
‘Oh! Right’.


‘This is such a treat to do this. Happy Christmas!’.
‘And you Philippa. Happy Christmas Abbie’.
‘Happy Christmas Laura’.
‘Happy Christmas George. George? Where is he?’
‘I think he’s drunk. He’s flat out under the table next door’.
‘Really? Which ..?’
‘The one by the fire with those two old ladies’.


‘…… weight on my foot…. it’s practically numb. You know my friend Maria von Schwizendorf had a Jack Russell. It gave her the runaround dreadfully. They’re simply ghastly little dogs……. absolutely do not know how to do what they’re told. It was a perfect menace. The sad thing was that no-one wanted anything to do with her because of that wretched little dog…. She was practically ostracised by the end’.
‘And I suppose she was besotted’.
‘Of course! Wouldn’t hear a word against it. It was dreadful. Made it quite worse…. And it completely fouled up the garden……. My dear the flowerbeds were ruined. She had some wonderful primulas one year and the nasty little animal dug them all up….. every single one! Absolute carnage….. and that was without it humping everything in sight. Maria couldn’t take it anywhere. If this one starts humping the table leg it will simply be the end’.
‘Oh but it looks rather sweet this one’.
‘’They’re not sweet Olivia. Don’t be fooled. They’re anti-social little beasts’.
‘So what happened to Maria’s eventually?’
‘It got run over by a bus. Needless to say no-one was a bit sorry. Apart from Maria of course. She was devastated but there we go. She never had any children, poor Maria, so what can one expect. The dog becomes everything. It’s too bad. Mind you, her social life recovered immensely after it was gone……. What’s that noise? Is that the dog snoring?’