Dad's still feeling poorly so here's another shot from last week of our trip to Haworth.
In the background you can see the parsonage where the Bronte family lived.
Dad says in those days, most pooches were not allowed in the house but had to sleep outside!
That must have been cold!

"Presently, I heard a snuffling sound behind me, and then a dog came frisking and wriggling to my feet.
It was my own Snap–the little dark, wire-haired terrier! When I spoke his name, he leapt up in my face, and yelled for joy."
- Anne Bronte, "Agnes Grey".