For a little while, Bridie and I have reluctantly admitted, in private, that the biggest attraction on Rugby Street these days was no longer the shop. No, not the latest Peter Hone plasters; not delectable Marianna Kennedy lamps. Certainly not my Parsonage candlesticks, and not even Bridie’s stamp plate decoupage.
No, for a lot of people in the WC1 area, the only reason to visit 17 Rugby Street these days is to say a lunch time hello to Max.
Max, Bridie’s perfectly handsome poodle, arrived as a little ball of fluff a few months ago now. My friend Monica accurately described him as an ink blot, especially apt in those early days when he had long hair. After a little while, Max had his first hair cut. We were very excited to be able to see him, and I think he was even more excited to see the world.
He has one or two failings. I think it’s true to say that one or two of us in the architecture office find it a little trying that he cries quite so mournfully (and loudly) as soon as he is separated from Bridie for more than six seconds. We’ve tried to explain it to Bride but of course she can never actually hear the sound of Max being separated from her, so although she is sympathetic I am not entirely sure she believes us. A bit like people who snore who are convinced they don’t.
Well, despite everything, we certainly forgive the happy little fellow. We are all in love with him. Who couldn’t be?
So secretly, I’ve been wondering when Bridie would pluck up the courage to post Max’s first photo on the website. For those of you didn’t happen to be browsing in the antique furniture department for a nice little vintage children’s chair or two, here’s Max. A star is born, and you saw him here first.
