"No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich."

New quote, new mystery person called Louis Sabin. Let me go on a Voyage of Discovery. Ah, he's a writer. He wrote Great Teams of Pro Basketball. Oh, THAT Louis Sabin. Silly me.

Today, Roly went missing. I thought my heart might burst out of my ribcage I was in such a state. All that angst about Olive Oyl breaking down...NOTHING compared to the thought of losing Roly. That would go for Alfie and Poppy too. (Oh, and Peter and my three sons. Did I forget to mention them?)

Here's Roly when he was a mere adorable puppy.

Here he is - scary Halloween dog - raiding the dishwasher.

And now he's seven years old. Just chillin'. (I placed the chair strategically to obscure his masculinity. It IS before the watershed, after all. And they are particularly large.)

He's an intelligent fellow. Pensive, with pebble on head.

So...today he went missing, up at the yard. We called and called until we were hoarse. We checked all the empty loose boxes and the barns, without much hope, because we know that if he DOES get shut in by mistake, he barks and barks until he's let out. I ran all around everywhere. Tessa drove all around the lanes. (I had no car, of course.)

Finally after over an hour of searching in vain, we concluded (hoped, prayed?) he must have taken himself home across the fields, back the way we jogged this morning. Tessa lent me her car and I drove home. As I arrived, the phone was ringing. It was Tessa.

'He's back!' she said. 'You're going to die when I tell you where he was!' He wasn't in an empty loose box. He was in Alfie's loose box. WITH ALFIE.

We can only assume that he was worried about barking when confined with Big Animal With Large Hooves.

Alfie...you could have told us!