Having three dogs can be hard going. They are everywhere, under your feet, on every chair, shouting at callers and workmen, squabbling with each other. Yesterday, Tim, normally the mildest of dogs, set about another local dog, a puppy called Luna who seemed to have done nothing to deserve it. A worrying sign. Maybe it had something to do with him managing to catch a full sized rabbit earlier in the day, but I doubt it. And I am not sure if he actually caught the rabbit, as the first I saw was him racing along with it hanging out of his mouth with Mimi alongside trying to wrest it from him. Maybe he just found the body rather than caught it. Then both dogs vanished for over half an hour, but I could hear them barking way off somewhere among the pines. All this took place in what we call the Hare Field, an area of uncultivated scrubland full of gullies and ravines and crittur holes. It is the dogs´ favourite place. When the two returned I was relieved to see they had disposed of the corpse and were not covered in blood, so they had not apparently torn their victim to bits. Una all the while was close by me, unusual for her, but she has been a little subdued recently. We think Mimi´s relentless attention is getting to her. Anybody need a dog? Also yesterday, two pilgs turned up with a donkey looking for Reb (the pilgs, that is, not the donkey.) Unfortunately, she had gone off to Sahagun. Anyway, when I opened the front door, the dogs all ran out and began barking at the poor beast, who had earlier been attacked by other dogs, and bitten, so we were told. We would like to put up pilgrim animals such as donkeys and horses and dogs, but this was not a promising start. The two pilgs quickly assured me they were on their way to Sahagun and did not need to stop. One of our neighbours told me on Sunday that there was a small donkey for sale in Sahagun right now, with very few miles on it. We would like one of our own eventually, but maybe eventually never comes. We have also thought about getting a goat, and went as far as buying a book on the subject. This, for 10 euros, or so, was a good investment, because I keep the book in the bathroom and read it when I am at stool. Every time I look at the impressive and illustrated list of horrible aliments that can befall a goat, the idea of owning one goes straight back onto the eventually list. Last night we went to Sahagun to watch the Manchester United - Chelsea game. When we arrived at the bar, the TV was showing bullfights from Madrid. One minute a noble bull vomiting blood from its nose, then a quick channel flip to Sir Alex Ferguson in a spectacularly horrible shiny suit. There was something quintessentially Spanish about it all.