It was late June when Geordie Paul walked into the Hotel Gecko with a thin and worn dog that had been abandoned at a Gas and restaurant service station near Manilva.
The bar downstairs by the river was packed as Spain were playing a European Cup semi-final and a combined crowd of locals, Spanish & British, were yelling encouragement at the large TV perched on a rickety table alongside the bar, fueled by a plentiful supply of ‘tubo’s’.
The lost dog was inspected by the men with a casual glance, in between gulps of beer, but cooed over by all the women, who then, because the dog had curled up alongside my wife, started a campaign of persuading me to take the dog.
Eventually, alongside the good feeling of our adopted team winning the game and the effects from the beer, we were persuaded to take the now-named Molly home.
Over time Molly has filled out and regained her strength, except on long walks where the ruc-sac acts as a carry-cot, and apart from the odd burrowing escape under the fence she is well behaved.
Her short ‘Nora Batty’ legs, with white socks seemingly hanging down, have filled out and are not so wrinkly. She is playful and greets everyone with a running and turning back-dive which lands her at your feet upside down. All things considered Molly has landed on her feet!