The intelligent Dog

Rhoda Williams was my mother. With other housewives she would queue — how she would queue — for rations at the Grocers and the Butchers in particular. A lighter moment in her life was when a hound followed her into the Butchers and leant gently up against her right leg as she moved up the queue. At the counter the Butcher said to my mother, ‘for two is it as usual?’ as she handed over her book for its cancellation/removal of its tokens. To the hound he said, ‘I have nothing for you today’. The beast forthwith departed without as much as a backward glance. ‘He comes here at least twice a week’ said the Butcher ‘, he must have a round of suppliers. A minor remembrance but it certainly enlivened my mother’s day and she wrote to me while in the army telling of this incidence.

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