‘Can I go to my room now?’

Without waiting for an answer, she left the kitchen and went upstairs, making sure to stomp on the stair carpet and slam her bedroom door. Throwing herself on her bed, she pulled out her phone and hit ‘Recents’.

‘Zac?’

‘Hey, babe, what’s up?’

‘I fucking hate my parents.’

Rescue Me

Now I know why they call it puppy love.

Two days later I find myself sitting on the floor while five squeaking bundles of wagging tails, pink noses and soft, velvety ears crawl and tumble all over me.

‘So what do you think?’ Brenda is looking at me expectantly, her eyebrows raised. Brenda is one of the full-time staff who greeted me when I first walked in. Apparently the girl I met in the car park was just a weekend volunteer.

I think I’m about to become an even bigger cliché. I can hear Naomi now, teasing me about Meno-Paws. Well, who hasn’t read one of the many articles in those magazines you find at the hairdresser’s?

LOST & FOUND

My husband left me, so I got a puppy
and I’ve never been happier!

MENO-PAWS

Meet the middle-aged women swapping
their HRT patches for puppies!

‘Gosh, I can’t choose between them.’

‘Maybe you don’t have to,’ she smiles. ‘I think that little one has already chosen you.’

She motions to the little ball of golden fluff that’s fallen fast asleep in the crook of my arm.

‘You’re in luck. Puppies go quickly, but she hasn’t been reserved yet.’

I feel my heart melt. Who cares if I’m in Meno-Paws?

Brenda beams with satisfaction. ‘If you want to follow me through to the office, we can fill in a reservation form.’

Carefully putting the puppy back with the rest of the litter, I dust myself off and follow Brenda past the row of kennels and the cacophony of barking into the office, where she sits down at her desk and offers me a seat opposite.

‘Just be careful of our newest arrival,’ she says as I pull up a chair.

It’s then I notice a dog basket on the floor. Curled up inside, sound asleep and snoring raspily, is a scruffy black dog. I notice his muzzle is greying and covered in scars. I can see his ribs, he’s so thin.

‘He came into the shelter yesterday, but we can’t put him in a kennel by himself, as he howls.’

‘Howls?’

‘Yes, the old boy doesn’t like being alone.’

Brenda looks across at him, her face sympathetic.

‘Plus it’s warmer in here. He’s got bad arthritis in one of his back legs. By the looks of things, it’s from an old injury that was never treated properly. Shame, as now he’s quite lame.’

‘Oh no, the poor thing.’

I’m watching as he begins to dream, making little excited barks and yelps, his front paws moving as if he’s running.

‘What’s his name?’

Tapping away on the computer, she doesn’t look up. ‘We don’t know.’