It's Amelie at Hove dog track!


Obviously she's paying no attention whatsoever to the real dogs, but that's because she's worked out that greyhounds that size are ten a penny, whereas the one with the three foot nose is clearly something special, and worthy of feeding with the Minstrels she's stolen off Daddy.

As it happens, we've been out for most of the day today. Lisa's Mum celebrated the latest of her numerous birthdays on Thursday, so as a special gift from all three of us, we picked her up this morning, filled her pockets full of change, and let her go to the dogs. By the time we got home seven hours later, Lisa's Mum was a rich woman, Amelie was dripping blood, and I was praying there weren't any social workers watching from the grandstand.

It all started well enough. Amelie went trotting along trackside...


She checked the dividend from her Daddy's last bet...

And then she fell flat on her face and cut her lip open. Although, to be fair, that didn't bother her as much as the mouthful of gravel she picked up at the same time. I think she's still chewing on grit as we speak.

Now, admittedly that all happened on my watch, and I was essentially too busy taking photos to bother strapping on her baby reins, but I still don't think it was my fault. If she manages to find the only two-foot patch of gravel in the whole stadium, and immediately dive headlong into it, that's her lookout. She's got me to thank for wiping the sand off her tongue. Which is no easy task when you're struggling to see past the blood.

Anyhoo, by the time Lisa came back from the toilets, Amelie had been cleaned up and cheered up, and I would have got away with it all... if only her top lip hadn't swelled up.

Personally I think it suits her. She looks like she's had collagen implants. And all for the price of admission. Which on a Sunday is free.

I took Amelie back outside twenty minutes later, so Lisa said to me "See if you can bring her back with a black eye this time". I felt that was a bit harsh. Especially when you consider what happened on Lisa's watch a couple of hours later...

We went straight from the greyhound stadium to drink tea and eat cake with the ex-wife of Lisa's cousin, and her daughter, who is Lisa's first cousin once removed and Amelie's... um... distant relative. They have a cat called Millie. Millie has claws. And Amelie now has a claw-shaped wound on her hand. I'm not saying Lisa neglected her, but Amelie and I spent the whole afternoon surrounded by dogs, and she didn't get so much as a bite.