You know those gritty, dramatic inner city sets (movie or theatre) where part of the atmosphere is a disheveled figure slumped in a doorway, with their head propped against the door frame? That would be my dog.

The moment the season is warm enough for my kitchen door to be open (to let in some much needed brightness), you will find my dog (Hazel)  flopped in the doorway, her head supported against the door frame.  She assumes the boneless sprawl of the unencumbered or deeply inebriated, thus earning the moniker ‘Hazel (or my dog) the wino’. It has yet to be shortened to ‘the wino’, because I like to think of her having earned it like those titles of old: Alexander the Great, Hywel the Good, Ethelred the Unready, Lulach the Fool (all real historic leaders. Ooo, maybe for entertainment I can think of descriptors for present or wanna be leaders…I wonder if expletives are acceptable?)… Hazel the wino.  I can see it fitting in.

She is also affectionately called boozehound.