Robert the Westie. My life. By me.

4. Meeting a new age London family, and how.

"And is it okay if I bring Robert?" I heard Steve ask on the phone.

This was exciting: new people to meet. I sincerely hoped that my accompaniment of my master would not be an issue. Happily, it was not to be.

"Okay, that's brilliant," Steve said. "We have so much to catch up on. Yes, ten years. It's unforgivable, I know. But when Julian said you had bought a house just a few miles from the villa, I had to get back in touch. Danny is gutted that he can't join us, but it's his last catwalk show tonight and his attendance is de rigeur."

To this day, I have no idea what rigour had to do with Danny's attendance. But I could make some sense of the rest. We were apparently going to see some long lost friends who must have acquired a home near the villa that Steve had just found in France, somewhere near a place called Cannes. As was his practice, Steve gave me a more detailed briefing as we sped along in the Porsche.

"Please be on your best behaviour Robert. They are a nice couple, Alexis and Tommy, but the baby is only eighteen months old and may not be too familiar with bouncy, furry animals, okay?"

I barked my assent. Steve halted the car in a quiet, tree-lined street.

"Your first time in Belsize Park," he informed me.

He was good like that, always keeping me in the picture, not like Danny! But that's a complaint for another day. We climbed a steep staircase to an imposing front door. The house towered four storeys above us but was strangely narrow, as if it had been sliced in half. I looked to my left and, sure enough, there was the other half, a mirror image separated by cast iron railings. Footsteps echoed beyond the front door.

"Tommy, how nice! Well, you haven't aged a minute, have you dear?"

Typical Steve, I thought, always concerned to make people feel good, but not necessarily constrained by the fine detail of the truth. How could someone not have aged in ten years? But, I have to say; Tommy did indeed look young and fit. A dusky tone to his skin, full lips and a quite chunky nose told me he might well be one of those Chinese people, ethnically speaking. I had nothing against them, of course. So long as someone wasn't black, like those damn, grumpy Scotties, who cared about colour anyway?

The two men embraced enthusiastically. I barked.

"Ah, and this must be Robert" said Tommy. "We've heard quite a bit about him! Anyway come on in. Alexis is putting the finishing touches to dinner, with Arthur's help, of course," he added.

A long corridor, its tiled floor partly covered by a series of rugs, lead to the room from which came rich smells and muted noises. Tommy swept open the door. We entered the kitchen.

"Alexis, wonderful, parenthood clearly suits you." Steve swept the wife into a warm embrace supplemented with a kiss on each cheek. A dark-skinned child peered over his shoulder. "So this is Arthur. What a lovely smile!"

The child made a cheerful gurgling noise.

"Will Robert be okay with him? We heard there was an incident," said Tommy.

Not again, I thought. One tiny aberration very early in my life and my reputation ends up besmirched forever!

"No he'll be fine," said Steve loyally. "He was still a puppy and there was a bit of incitement going on. Anyway, Poppy is apparently fine now, all fingers present and accounted for."

The expression on Tommy's face was not one of whole-hearted confidence. But he reached across to Alexis, took Arthur from his arms and placed the child before me.

"Un chien," said the boy quite clearly and to my absolute bemusement. No, before you ask, I had not, at that time, mastered the French language.

With a lot more confidence than his parent had shown, Arthur boldly reached out and patted my head. I decide his bravery deserved a reward so I wagged my tail and gave him a little bark. Sadly, not little enough, as the child immediately burst into tears and retreated into the apron of Alexis.