Today’s dog has my all time favourite name. Lettice.

I suspect the world is easily divided into two types, depending on what you think when you hear the name Lettice. I, and kindred spirits, think of this:

Lettice Knollys, Countess of Leicester and Countess of Essex, obviously:

But I believe there are people who would think of this:

Reader, I married one – and that is why my first born is not called Letty.

Anne of Green Gables always hankered after the name Cordelia. Lettice is my Cordelia. Lettice Larkum. I think it might have been the making of me – certainly if I had been 1930s novelist, who then coped marvellously during the war years, bottling fruit from the orchard as her staff left her one by one.

But this is the real Lettice, aka Letty:

And isn’t she totally worthy of my favourite name.

She is another one of those dogs made to be sewn – it must be the patch – a patch and a good silhouette, job done. I mean, look at this:

I love this picture – a ghostly fading thing. But, you can’t really have sewn portraits with no stitches, so I set off:

Letty looked rather lovely throughout the process, I think.

Such a beautiful face – and something slightly wistful in the pose too.

And, though I loved the dark mystery of those unfinished eyes – I think the playfulness of Letty needed bringing out, with a few more carefully placed stitches:

And she’s done. I gave her a lively Liberty print for background (it was a tricky choice, she looked great on so many).

Lovely Lettice.

And here she is again, knocking my poor portrait into a cocked hat, whatever that might mean.I love this shot. She certainly earned that bone.