AUGUST/SEPTEMBER

Here I stand — or rather, sit — Sentinel. Much like the Egyptian Sphinx, I guard the citadel, ensuring my master and the Mrs are safe while they admire my noble profile. Perched high upon this stone plinth, I feel rather grand, though I can’t help thinking I should be cloned so that I might occupy the adjacent one as well.

This ancient doorway, with its studded timber and weathered stone, isn’t my home in France — though the masonry feels familiar. It belongs to the medieval castle ruins of Eymet, a 13th‑century bastide town where I’m temporarily residing with a somewhat reluctant female companion. She has, so far ignored me, rebuffed my advances and even voiced her displeasure at my attention. Still, I refuse to let that dent my ego.

So here I pose in imperial fashion, hoping at least to impress the Mrs on this fine morning outing — to remind her that I am, above all, a lovable and loyal companion. I’m not sure how long I can maintain this exemplary behaviour, but as long as she keeps treats in her pocket, I shall persevere.