We were convinced that my dog, Muffin (I named him when I was 5, due to muffins being my favorite breakfast treat) was really an old British man. Muffin enjoyed laying in the one spot of sun on the porch, laying on the rug, laying on the kitchen floor and eating left over Chinese food. He also enjoyed watching Charlie Rose. If he could, he would have smoked a pipe and discussed Shelley, I’m sure. Muffin rarely got too excited about anything after the age of 3, except when we would go on a car ride. “Bye Bye in the car” made his ears perk, his tail wag, and he’d forget all about his afternoon tea. I think he would have made a good dog for this series by Martin Usborne. Here’s to you Muff; I hope you are in a place where the crumpets are plentiful.
Ode to Muffin
