We learn, from our earliest years, to mark, or count, things out of ten – with ten being the epitome of success, joy, spelling ability or sexual attraction (quotient thereof).
Jumble, my fourteen-and-a-half-year-old border collie, has really taken to life in Glastonbury. He has perked up. His interest in life is re-awakened. He adores our surroundings and likes to rub noses, through the bars, with Pippa. He is delighted with his new freedom to wander where he will – and even curls up at the bottom of my bed some nights.
There are a couple of areas in which we do not see eye to eye, the main one being his extraneous fur. I want to thin it out. He wants me to bugger off. Stalemate at present. I clip bits as and when I can, but the large nests in his posterial thicket could really do with a hedge trimmer!
But, in the main, we co-exist amicably – and he is almost back to the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed puppy of yesteryear: Very touching! So, for Jumble, this move has been an unambiguous TEN – as, I feel, the photo below suggests! – and I, as his owner, protector and chaser-with-nasty-sharp-scissor-Witch, am delighted at how much better he is in himself.