The Scarborough Mirror

Ignore a canine and chances are the animal will forgive, lick your hand and chase a tossed stick. Try that with an employer, a spouse or an income tax auditor.

I know Three Beer has not always been a bosom companion and inseparable from his dog Spot. The pooch is totally black in colour. He named it Spot just to be different. As if that mattered.

This bonding between dog and master began just after Three Beer forgot to keep an eye on his watch. He had gone out to play darts with friends and advised his ladylove that he would be home very early. Seems he forgot.

When the clock struck 3 a.m., she had begun to worry. It was not because he is not prone to late hours or arriving home just as the milk is delivered. But "he did promise to be home early."

It was not worry that crossed my mind when she telephoned me at 3:30 a.m. She guessed that I was home and figured he was in my company. I emphatically advised her he was not.

"It's just that he promised and he has turned over a new leaf," she said, grovelling. "And I do worry so."

I suggested she immediately telephone all his dart team buddies. If that failed, "phone all the numbers in his black book."

I reasoned that she would make all aware that Three Beer was on the loose. Besides, if I was wakened, why not them.

It was while she was busy calling various police jurisdictions that Three Beer snuck unseen in their home's back door and down to the family room. Once there, he grabbed some pajamas from the laundry bin, tossed a blanket onto the sofa and lay down.

A few minutes later, purposely dishevelled, he sauntered up the stairs and entered the kitchen, where she sat at the table examining his black book. He was greeted by shock and anger. A great deal of the latter.

Of course, he insisted she was asleep when he arrived home and he had gone downstairs to sleep to avoid waking her. Very considerate! She was not buying his tale and insisted he was lying.

Engaging Plan 2, he did as almost all men would do. He continued his alibi and showed her the blanket, the sofa.

A stalemate ensued and she did what all women do in such a situation. She wanted to know who everyone in the black book was. Especially those numbers with no name, just a number and a puzzling code.

Three Beer told all this to me yesterday, during the daylight hours. He is in the doghouse and on a short leash. He is also sleeping on the sofa. The dart pals she telephoned and his black book contacts are equally unimpressed.

He insisted he was innocent of wrongdoing, only guilty of procrastination.

As for me, well his escapade cost me some sleep but that is all. He is OK and has bought a new wristwatch with a built-in alarm clock.

Until she forgives or forgets, he will remain in the doghouse. At least Spot is happy for his pal's nocturnal companionship.