PuppyBaths

The puppy had been right outside the bath. A steady stream of tourists entering the ancient site ensured good begging for the tiny hound. Dax had found the mutt in that spot the last three times it got away. Cheeto was his girlfriend's dog. He was following her on a Jane Austen, Victorian fantasy vacation, and now he appeared to be the designated animal wrangler.

Dashing into the Bath toward the loud commotion Dax took a right and headed to the Pump House, where he and Cheryl had tea the previous day. A yelp, followed by barking and some aggressive growling revealed Cheeto to be sheltering under a large circular table that was currently hosting high tea. One elderly woman sporting a hat that could have hidden a whole pheasant seemed delighted and was clearly offering part of a biscuit to the underside of the table while cooing lightly. The rest of the table held a dowdy universal expression of affront.

It was probably the biscuit rather than the cooing that brought Cheeto to her side of the table. Dax's apology was immediately cut short, "Nonsense! This little fellow is the brightest spot of this insipid tea." The affront at the table turned up a few notches, but all of the stares were directed straight at Dax. Never adept in social situations, the present tableau left him at a complete loss. Fortunately, a well-suited individual from the sidelines inserted a calling card into his hand as he simultaneously extracted Cheeto and guided him away from the table, with a nod of ‘Mum' to the elderly lady.