The dog has eaten my shooting gloves. Not chewed or gnawed, but eaten. Consumed. Except the buckles, which he brought to me with a wholly unjustified pride, rolling them about his teeth. “Look,” he seemed to say, “I’ve saved these for you.”
You might imagine that we went hotfoot to the vets for emetics or laxatives, perhaps even surgery. We didn’t. I did follow him about with a stick and a rubber glove for a few days, just in case they made a difficult reappearance, but nothing eventuated so after a while I gave up. They were deerskin, you see, and unlined, so the fact of the matter is that he probably digested them. My favourite shooting gloves. Well, my current favourite shooting gloves; I have had many pairs over…