I’m not sure what version of off white the doggies are.
They were both sold to us as “cream” but I expect Snowy of Tintin fame would have been the same colour. I have vague memories of past renovations when choosing off white paint colours, they all had exotic names like Spanish white, alabaster, parchment, egg shell, ivory, tea – somehow?, and that old standard, Pearl Lusta. Since then, white paint names have only expanded: ghost white, polar bear, sea fog, rice cake, frost, concrete, chalk dust, and you can even get cabbage white which seems like grasping at straws to me.
Personally I would just call the poochies dirty white and be done with it. In any event, I suspect whatever colour they are would be the second least popular after pure black, which looks fatally unimpressive in an influencers social media feed.
For all that, I was pleased they were the colour they are yesterday evening when I took them for a walk through the cemetery on the longest night of the year, when I realised the batteries on my torch were flat. It was close to a full moon, so with their light colouring, I could still seem them running around in the gloom.
At one point, Catdog started barking and growling at one of the graves. I went and had a look with the feeble light from my cell phone torch, but couldn’t see anything there, assuming it was some combination of a rat or hedgehog in the undergrowth and a dim witted dog. It was only later that I considered that as a youngster and a big fan of ghost stories, I would have been absolutely petrified if that had happened. Is this a sign of the good sense that comes with maturity or simply a tragic lack of imagination, a creative streak that has withered with age?
