‘You don’t know? Why?’ I say, surprised. ‘What happened to his owner?’

She turns away from the screen, taking off her glasses to look at me. ‘We don’t know that either as he hasn’t been microchipped and there was no collar. He was found up on the moors. By the looks of it, he’d been dumped.’

‘Dumped?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘How could anyone abandon a dog?’ I ask, shocked.

Brenda shrugs. ‘He’s some kind of lurcher, so it’s likely he was used for hunting when he was younger. Sadly, when they get old and can’t hunt properly any more, they’re often found abandoned, or worse.’

‘So they just throw them away, like rubbish?’

She nods, her face resigned. ‘This one seems a really sensitive soul. He didn’t deserve such cruel treatment. No animal does.’

I look across at the dog without a name. He’s woken himself up with all that dreaming and as he lifts his grey muzzle, his chocolate-brown eyes meet mine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog look so sad. I’m used to seeing all the ones in parks in London, with their happy waggy tails and shiny pedigree coats.

‘How could anyone do that to him?’ I say quietly.

Getting up from my chair, I bend down to stroke him, but he turns his head away and stares fixedly at the wall.

‘He’s shut down,’ she explains. ‘Not surprising, considering.’

Gently I stroke his back, feeling his ribcage beneath his fur. Not wanted any more and dumped by his owner. I know how he feels.

‘You and me both,’ I whisper, tickling his ear.

‘The hikers who brought him in said he was very disorientated when they found him. I doubt he would have survived another night up there.’

‘At least he’s safe now.’

‘Yes.’ She finishes typing and stands up to get something from the printer and, when she looks over at me, her face is a picture of resignation. ‘But it won’t be easy. It’s hard to find someone willing to take on an older dog with issues.’

I feel something warm and wet brush against my hand and turn back to see the old dog gently licking it.

‘Anyway, if you just want to check and sign this reservation form.’ She passes it across to me.

‘Actually I need to change something.’

She frowns. ‘Is there a mistake?’

‘Here.’ I point to the section where it asks for a description of the dog being offered a new home. ‘Can you cross out “puppy” and instead put “Harry”?’

‘Harry?’

I look down into the chocolate-brown eyes staring up at me.

‘Well, he’s going to need a name.’

STAGE 2

Keep Calm

(and go for a walk)

Faith

They say things come in threes. Even impulsive decisions. So if the first was quitting my job and the second was buying a cottage deep in the Yorkshire Dales, then my third is deciding to adopt Harry.

After filling in the necessary paperwork and undergoing a home check, which I was nervous I would fail, as the cottage is barely fit for habitation – by a human or an animal – Brenda calls. It’s good news. I have somehow managed to be deemed fit enough to be his new owner.