“Can I take Mouse for a walk?” I ask, and I’m always allowed. We set off, very slowly. Mouse walks at a snail’s pace. He stops at lampposts and fences and sniffs for a long time. Sometimes he looks up at me and then I usually say something. I maybe say “old man” in a very nice voice, not my usual one... I wish Mouse was mine. This is a book for anyone who knows what it is to love an old, slow dog,with ears as thin as pancakes.