Returning from my nightly walk, I passed a man walking his dog in the local park. The dog loomed up out of the darkness and, as it nuzzled my trousers, I noticed that it was not in the first flush of youth.
The man was smallish, neat, middle aged, with a military-style moustache.
"Are they still called Rhodesian ridgebacks?" I asked him.
"Indeed they are!" he replied, obviously pleased at my interest. "And they st- still hunt lions."