Clement came somewhere near the middle of six; not that six has a middle. He must’ve been number three or four in the family; together three and four form a sort of middle when it comes to six.
Clement was different from his brothers and sisters. Well, not that different to look at; they all had brown hair and the same nose; although Clement’s hair was lighter than the rest. And they all had dark skin, except for Clement. It wasn’t really a dark skin as such, more tan, except for Clement whose skin was white. Kind of like one of those arctic owls that goes white when the snow arrives. That sort of thing anyway; although Clement didn’t have a moon face like an owl! And of course he didn’t have a moon face because he wasn’t an owl, was he? But I’m sure you can picture him, even though I’ve been a bit muddled in my description of him.
Anyway, Clement was a bit different from his brothers and sisters. “He must’ve had a different father,” laughed Mrs MacLeod. Mrs MacLeod lives in the big house on the corner. You know her? She’s plump and has dogs? She puts her nose into everyone else’s business.
Anyway, Clement was different because he often lived in his own little world. He was usually late for most things like dinner, because he was engrossed in whatever it was he was doing. And then when he was called, “Hurry up Clement!” he would dawdle his way with a lackadaisical gait. He was always last to get into the car.
Mrs MacLeod called it Clement-time. She would sing:
Oh my darling! Oh my darling!
Oh my darling Clement-time!
Clement didn’t seem to mind. For a dog he was amazingly laid-back. He was the only one Mrs MacLeod kept. The other five puppies got sold.