‘Are you sure you want to pick him up tonight? You must be really tired after the drive from the ferry,’ I suggest, when Frances, Biff’s owner, calls early Saturday evening to say they are back. ‘You might as well let him stay here one more night and pick him up tomorrow.’
In this way, I wheedle one more night with le petit Biff, one more morning of being yanked through the countryside by a small, over-excited black terrier.
This morning they came to collect him. He looked confused as I packed up his bed and his bowls. I am going to miss the patter of his black gorilla paws following me up the stairs and the sight of them suddenly appearing next to me at my desk. Fortunately, I am off to London on an early train tomorrow morning and on Wednesday am flying out to Italy for a few days in Venice with The Man.