As the three friends grew older they began to go their own ways, this did not diminish their love for each other, but, just as we humans need a little space of our own, each one of them discovered that as an individual they needed time to develop their own personality.
The Labrador youth discovered that some of his very best moments came from pushing himself to the very limit of his physical ability. He really enjoyed being stretched by his 'human' and doing absolutely everything everything that he was told - but in double-quick time!

Rather to the contrary his colleague the Golden Retriever found that his affability and innate charm were his biggest assets. He would hang around for hours (preferably by a good log fire) just to thump his tail and open wide his big brown eyes when his 'human' came in from work.

Labrador and Golden were concerned about their friend, She was the most gorgeous of companions, but seemed so 'disconnected', so unfocussed, so much of a flipperty-gibbet! So . . Labrador planned the visit, organised the appointment, and packed the survival rations; Golden shoved a wad of the best pipe-tobacco in his pocket, pulled on his heaviest pair of plus fours, and left a note at his club to say that he was out of town for a day or two; and they both collected their friend Flatcoat and set off to see the Wizard Merlin.

"We must make camp", said Labrador, and immediately set about trying to find a suitable site.

Golden sat down on a fallen tree trunk, pulled out his Meerschaum and started to tell a long, involved tale (to anyone who happened to be listening) about a chum of a chum of his who had once lost his way in up-country Malay - beyond the Cameron Highlands . ..

Flatcoat set off in chase of a firefly.

Whether it was Merlin, or some other Wizard, it is difficult to say, but as the gloaming turned to night a mist of smells rolled over that part of the wood and, just as human-kind get disorientated in a fog, our three heroes became befuddled and bemused in this cacophony of scent. At his best in a crisis Labrador carefully rolled out his sleeping rug, stowed his survival rations out of the way of crawling things, shut his eyes and went to sleep. Golden, unfazed by the whole thing, propped himself up against his tree trunk, pulled his cape a little closer around his ample form, took a (purely medicinal) slug of Brandy and Soda from his hip flask, and went to sleep.

. . . and she was standing on the damp floor of the Forest howling a great howl of longing and love, howling to the trees and the sky and the stars, howling to her friends, and their friends and all the friends in the whole Wide World.

Labrador and Golden woke instantly to find the scent-fog had gone. They both rushed to the sound of their friend who was now standing, spooked, in a small clearing in the wood. "What happened" they cried, overjoyed to find her alive and well, "where have you been?". Flatcoat said nothing.