It was my Mum that spotted him, bedraggled and filthy on a stall at Hemswell.
The lady looked wistful as she took my pound coin.
Yes, he had been loved and played with for many-a-year, but I couldn't help but give her an accusatory glance.
You see, (I can barely bring myself to tell you of this heinous act of FP cruelty,) some evil child had CUT OFF HIS EARS!
Who would do that?
As soon as I got home, out came the sewing box and I found the perfect scrap of brown felt.
After a couple of hours of key hole surgery, (Mum wielding pliers and screw drivers and me wiping her brow,) the operation was a complete success.
Snoopy Senior is still in recovery, but I do think that his little rusty spring tail is wagging ever so slightly.
Welcome to the family.