Runaway pooch on a tights leash

WHEN we lived in welling, Kent, my husband Eddie had racing greyhounds. one dog, named Digga (racing name Little Teddy), was magnificent — strong and big, fawn in colour with a black nose. when he retired, we brought him home as a pet. I walked Digga a few times a day and people would stop me to stroke him and say how handsome he was. one day while on a walk, something frightened him and he slipped his lead. He was off like lightning. we searched for three days and posted notices in the local shops, but to no avail. Then my neighbour told us he’d seen Digga in woods some distance away. My husband and I jumped into our car and drove to the woods. Then we both raced off — my husband to the bottom of the hill and me to the top. I called Digga’s name as I walked deeper into the woods. After some time, I gave up and turned around to walk back to the road. It was then I heard a sound behind me and there was Digga — not a scratch or speck of dirt on him. I called: ‘Come on, Digga, there’s a good boy.’ He walked slowly towards me until I could stroke his head — but how could I get him home without a lead? Then I thought of my tights. with my right hand I held Digga and with my left I managed to pull off my tights and wrap them around his neck. on this makeshift lead, he walked beside me to the road. Digga was delighted to see my husband — his tail never stopped wagging. However, I think Eddie was a little surprised to see Digga ‘wearing’ my tights! Maureen Newton, Orpington, Kent.