Phobias - Fat Dogs and French Estates - page 122

dogs to make sure they hadn't involved themselves in a stint of unwanted gardening.
Signore perked up considerably at the sight of Biff and led the way.
In my defence, I had no idea that the gatehouse was inhabited. I was also unaware of
the inhabitant's dress code.
Signore suddenly cried, “ Ciao Chico! Vieni qui per favore ,” (hello Chico, come here
please). With that a man dressed from head to toe in black popped cheerily out of the door-
way.
I knew exactly what was going to happen. Biff appeared from nowhere like a pellet
from an airgun and flew at the gatekeeper. Despite the dog being classified as nearly clin-
ically dead, he moved with such speed that we simply didn't have time to stop him before
he scored a direct hit.
This wasn't a glancing blow. Oh no. With all teeth bared, he fully connected with a
black trouser leg and its enclosed shin. Poor Chico howled in pain and tried to shake the
dog off. This was an ill-advised thing to do because it simply renewed Biff's determination
to complete the amputation properly.
Luckily Jack responded quickly enough to avoid a full fatality and, grabbing Biff, des-
patched him into the nearby bushes. I then lassoed and removed him from the attack site
and put both dogs in the car for safe-keeping.
It took several minutes to calm down the Italians which, I suppose, was understand-
able. And despite pressing many euros into his trembling palm, as compensation for the
damage to his trousers plus various minor lacerations, Chico continued to behave (in Jack's
words) like a big soft girl.
Jack asked Charles whether we should ask Biff and the wasps to propose cease-fire
terms. Or should we wait until 2:00pm and call in a French peacekeeping force? Charles,
by now, was just beginning to understand Jack's xenophobic humour and tried to make
himself invisible.
This unfortunate skirmish had almost put the kibosh on the viewing process. But, from
what we could see this lodge was another pleasant dwelling. It was in a great position and
would be ideal as an overflow for family and friends, or anyone else who might risk unin-
vited conversation with my husband.
Time was running away from us now and my previously planned relaxed autoroute
café lunch was fast turning into a sandwich on the hoof. We both realised, though, that
the property was so promising that we must have a quick look at the land. Signore , eyes
positively glowing at the prospect of showing us his terra as our chauffeur, was given the
mandatory health and safety driving lecture. He accepted this with appropriate gravity and
slapped his little hand on his heart, pledging to do all things right by his would-be buyers.
He then pottered off to a garage and after several minutes and sounds of misfiring, we
finally heard the unmistakable noise of an ancient engine puttering into life. Perched on