I’d barely arrived back at Julie’s when the next adventure was arranged.

I’d let myself in with the key she’d given me, which I took as confirmation that I was now an official member of the household.

I had my own key.

Clearly, I’d been promoted.

Julie arrived home from work and announced that we were going out for dinner with her lovely mum.

To the pub.

Excellent!

And because I don’t drink, I was automatically appointed the designated driver.

This was quite an improvement on previous occasions when I’d been the designated driver without actually having a car.

Now I had Christine.

Whether that made the roads any safer was debatable, but at least we had transport.

So off we went.

We found ourselves a nice little nook in the pub, settled in and ordered our meals.

I was looking forward to a pleasant evening of good food and conversation.

What I hadn’t anticipated was acquiring a new best friend.

I was sitting there quite happily when I suddenly became aware of something breathing over my shoulder.

Then came the weight.

Something rather substantial was resting on my shoulder.

I turned around.

And found myself face to face with Lily.

Oh my God.

Lily was a Staffordshire Bull Terrier crossed with what I can only assume was a fully grown African lion.

She was enormous.

And absolutely gorgeous.

There she was, this great big grey face looking at me with the most wonderful eyes, as though she’d been waiting all evening for me to arrive.

Well, that was it.

Lily and I were instantly best friends.

She was sitting on the chair directly behind mine, back to back with me, which gave her the perfect position from which to supervise my dinner.

And supervise it she did.

I’d ordered breaded mushrooms and kumara fries.

For those unfamiliar with the word, kūmara is the Māori name for sweet potato, which is what we call it in New Zealand.

So essentially I had breaded mushrooms and sweet potato chips.

Although I rather like calling them kumara fries.

It makes them sound slightly more interesting.

Lily couldn’t have cared less.

As far as she was concerned, they were edible objects on a plate.

And therefore potentially hers.

She watched me.

I watched her.

We came to an arrangement.

I would eat my dinner.

And Lily would help.

It seemed only fair.

After all, she’d gone to the trouble of introducing herself.

So there we were, enjoying our evening in the pub, with Lily periodically appearing over my shoulder to check that I hadn’t forgotten about her.

Which was fairly unlikely.

It’s difficult to forget about a dog whose head is approximately the size of a small armchair.

I had a lovely evening with Julie and her mum, and it was rather nice being back in a proper British pub.

But I have to say, Lily rather stole the show.

I’ve travelled halfway around the world to catch up with old friends, visit family, explore places and have a few adventures along the way.

And now I’m making friends with the local wildlife.

Well, almost.

A Staffie crossed with a lion.

Who apparently speaks fluent kumara.

I don’t think she cared what they were called.

She just wanted the bloody chips.