Now Father's never really been the same since he eschewed all of his previous earthworm interests following the subsidence and subsequent demolition of our old house. Some hobbies have held his attention for a short time span, but he's a man with an inquiring mind. For years Father has shown an inordinate interest in greyhound racing - even purchasing the 1990s classic album Parklife by Blur, merely for the artwork on the cover.
He's now decided to formally adopt at retired racing greyhound and a visit to the rehoming kennels a fortnight ago led him to choose a seven-year-old brindle hound with the Kennel Club name of Dom Perignon. Dom, as I'll refer to him is a truly beautiful animal - strong, tall, sleek and with the loveliest snout you'll ever see, but he is rather large and our house, despite boasting three bedrooms (two doubles: one single) isn't. He's already colonised the three-seater sofa because, in Father's words 'greyhounds are far too delicate to sleep on the floor' in the sitting room and as for his excrement, let me say that it's truly vile and clearing it up is the worst element of taking him for a walk.
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