It was two in the morning. We dragged ourselves out of bed and went downstairs again. The conservatory was devastated. Anything free-standing had been pulled over; anything wooden had been attacked. There, in the middle of the scene, the queen of chaos herself was standing on top of the table with rolling eyes and a tongue twice its normal length. Andrew had always wanted a dog – something you could mould into the perfect playmate. Tail going like a windscreen wiper, tongue a pink strip, wet-nosed, bright-eyed – what boy wouldn’t want such a force in his life? But a man of thirty-seven? And an ex-racing greyhound? Dash is a heart-warming memoir about the adoption of a champion greyhound bitch and her transformation into ring-bearer at her new owner’s wedding. Set over a watershed twelve months, it’s the story of wanting the perfect dog and planning the perfect wedding. ‘Dash’ is far from perfect, but that’s half the fun. The novelty of a man trying to organise a wedding is the other half.
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