"The spaniel came up to me, sniffing at my legs, and I bent down and stroked his ears. "Well, Micky," I said, "you surely remember me? Poor old Micky, good old Micky." "Micky has got very fat," said my mother. "Yes," I said. "Micky is fond of his food," said Grey. There was another pause and I went on stroking the spaniel's ears."