‘You sure you want to take him for a walk?’ Mary’s eyes looked dubious, from underneath her wispy grey fringe. ‘He can be a bit of a handful.’
Elizabeth clipped the lead onto his collar and asked Mary how she coped with walking him. Although her personality was fiery, physically she was a frail-looking woman. Elizabeth surmised she had to be in her eighties at least.
‘My son usually takes him.’ Devoid of her false teeth, Mary’s lips smacked together.
Elizabeth stroked Jasper’s beefy head. ‘He sure is a huge dog. What breed is he?’
‘No idea,’ Mary said with a shrug. ‘We had him from the local dogs’ home. They told us he was a Heinz Fifty-Seven variety. Y’know, a mongrel.’
‘Well, he’s as tall as a Great Dane but his fur is so fluffy.’ Elizabeth looped the lead round her wrist and steppe
