Prologue

Gonzo Goldfish's Book of Books 

Author's note. Below is a character sketch for this book. With it, I think I'm playing fashion designer, not that I know all that much about fashion. But as I guess at it, the fashion designer creates something outrageous in the hope or expectation of clothes-makers then using those ideas to make more practical clothes? Either way, the characters in this book only slightly resemble the characters in this sketch. The lady of the house in particular turns out to be much nicer. But I didn't want to throw this sketch away. Because it was fun to write.

It is a truth well known that pugs are territorial. It is, however, less well known that they are also tribal. And in my house, that will not do. Tribalism has no place in a civilised house and on this point I am quite severe.

You see, I am very devoted to my dear ones. To a fault. No one is more attentive to what's best for them. So it should come as no surprise to you that I have been tireless in the task of breeding this unfortunate trait out of my girls.

But alas, the instinct is stubborn. And of all my Abbies, none has been more impossible than this one. Save, of course, my dear Twelve, may Jesus hold her in his arms and may Doctor Johnson sit forever on a hot poker in hell for failing to save my baby.

But this I do not have to tell you! Because as you have seen, Abbie is Hawthorn and will not budge. My goodness if she had a nose I would squeeze it quite hard and make her eat a teaspoon of something wholesome, red and black.

Oh but even as I say that my heart melts for you, doesn't it Abbie! It is such a pity we have to quarrel so. But then, I could wish you weren't Dutch, too, couldn't I.

But look, here comes Mary. Brunch already! And I have a very special treat for you today, Abbie. No, not Woodlands Park Duck. Swan! Mary is just back from Queen's Park, so she will still be warm for you. And you like that, don't you.

Pardon? Mary? No, you scallywag! Not Mary. The swan! Oh you make me laugh. But hush now.

***

Thank you Mary. Abbie will have hers in her high chair and I will have my morning port now. And please, turn me to face the sun? After that you can amuse yourself as you please until lunch, but please do not leave the house.