A very small and elderly hunting dog used to pop out from it and bark reedily until we had walked enough distance from his territory. These days the house appears to be empty - the dog presumably having moved on.
There are many sounds connected to this walk: the chickens cackling as they run freely in the hamlet's streets (street), the bleating of sheep, the crow colony that occupy the oak trees, and the friendly greeting from 'Monsieur oui, oui, oui', the white-haired inhabitant of Lapeyre. But I miss the barking, and wonder if another hound will be offered the house, or perhaps it was only constructed with that particular dog in mind.
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