Cirrus@Austlit

'It’s been a year of dogs. Tilly and Chilli and Louis and George and Lulu and Chip. The handsome Groodles — one a forest of golden curls, the other a tumble of butterscotch tresses — jogging with their athletic owners; they sprint across the road at precisely the same time each day, pausing just long enough to sniff cursorily in our direction (is that a gesture of friendly acknowledgement or chilly superiority?) before disappearing up the road.' (Introduction)