No dog sleeping on my feet or barking when the bell rings, or staring at me intently as I make coffee or try to watch TV
I wake and stretch my legs until they reach the end of the bed. The sun is shining and my mood is unaccountably light. I can’t think why I feel so untroubled. Then I remember: the dog is on holiday.
Three days earlier: I am sitting in the kitchen while my wife and the oldest one sort through his laundry and certain items are dropped into a suitcase for his week’s vacation in the West Country.