Heads swivel as we walk in.
James, Michael and Richard exchange looks. "I'm almost certain..." says Richard... "... that you left here with five dogs."
"And I've come back with six. Yes, I know. I couldn't leave him. Someone's dumped him."
Michael looks him over. "He's a good-looking animal. You think he's been abandoned?"
"Happens all the time. He looks about a year old to me. He's big, but he's still a bit gangly. Not grown into his paws yet. He was probably thrown out to make way for the Christmas puppy."
Charlotte's voice hisses from the lounge door. "Bastards!"
"Yup," I reply. "There's a special place in Hell for them. I hope they rot."
"Where d'you want this lot?" asks Larry, wincing away from where a holly branch prickles at his chin.
James thumbs him through to the dining room. "In there."
He marches through then without ceremony, dumps his load of holly on the tiles. Standing with his back to the fire, "Is there anything hot to drink? I'm fucking freezing."