I sent out my newsletter on Wednesday – squeaking in before we moved into September – and have been asked about something I mentioned.

Yesterday was Michel’s birthday (and Albert Claude’s), and I said we were whipping out to a local restaurant with friends for lunch, which is a rare event for us. We don’t eat out much, in fact I can’t remember when Michel and I did it on our own, it’s almost always when friends invite us. A few of you have dropped me messages, seeming surprised by this as we live in France, widely considered the international home of gastronomy. It is, I agree. And we happen to live in the Perigord region which has a strong gastronomic tradition.

Food is important to Michel and I, we are both pretty greedy, but the thing is, Michel is a retired professional chef. So for us to eat out, it has to be really good if it’s to be worthwhile. Or, an occasion where for him to cook seems a little mean. Which is really only once a year, his birthday. We eat well every day at home. For Michel cooking is not a chore, he loves it. Even though he’s now retired, his vast cookery book collection is still consulted most days. I can’t cook, haven’t cooked since we married over thirty years ago. So eating out on his birthday is the better option.

In my first book about Susie-Belle I wrote about how food was a way of encouraging her to engage with us when she was with us. Especially those early weeks when everything was scary. And we were all learning how to live together. She was such a wonderful foodie. Calling my first blog Susie-Foodie was no accident.

Giving Susie-Belle tasty morsels helped her to learn that around us nice things came to her. She turned out to be wonderfully appreciative of everything coming out of Michel’s kitchen. Food appreication also helped with Twinkle. She also set aside her worries, temporarily, when food was around. Her first Easter holiday, which we spent in France, she allowed me to teach her to sit, rewarded by nuggets of food. Sat in between Renae and Susie-Belle who gobbled them up with gusto, enjoying Twinkle’s lessons.

I assumed with Cerise it would be the same. It wasn’t. She was always highly supicious that luring her lay behind all food offerings. She never pushed herself forward to receive any treats. It took her a long time to take food directly from us. During the seven years we’ve shared with Cerise, she’s undergone a huge transformation. But, even now, food offerings can spook her. If she’s not ready to manage her responses, she’ll walk away rather than risk a food trap. She’s never sat for a treat, she refused to learn and I gave up early, knowing the cause was futile. And who cares whether Cerise sits or doesn’t for food? I certainly don’t. And she will never eat off a dinner plate even when she sees her siblings tucking into table left overs.

(Yes we do that, they love it and I care little about anyone’s opinions on it).

Angel is a fusspot. A major one when it comes to food. We have never had a dog who is picky about what they’ll eat and it’s hilarious how sure of herself Angel is. She knows that she can refuse an offering and she won’t go hungry. She lived in a puppy farm for years and must know what hunger is. And yet, will turn up her black little nose at excellent food if it’s not what she fancies. She knows she has me exactly where she wants me. Angel knows that she can drop a sliver of cold sausage on the floor, look at me and get a cube of goats cheese instead. She loves goats cheese and don’t worry, I know all about fats and dogs and diets and pancreatitits and schnauzers and everything I should and shouldn’t do. I know, I know.

What Angel has shown me, again, as Cerise showed me before her, is that dogs are unique. What one might do, or think, or react to, another will not. My dogs all hold many lessons for me, I am their eternal, willing student.

The birthday lunch yesterday was great incidentally. We sat looking out at the river enjoying a seafood platter. Before rushing back to the dogs, to celebrate Albert Claude’s birthday, he shares one with Michel. Albert eats everything he is given. Of course he does, he’s my very good boy. Except rabbit. He is not keen on it, unless it’s poached and served with fresh peas. Which it is, just for him.