‘How about some TV?’

In desperation I grab the remote. I once saw a funny video of a dog watching TV and being really engrossed in a wildlife programme by David Attenborough. I turn it on and start scrolling through the channels.

‘Love Island?’

It’s the new winter series. OK, so it’s not quite David Attenborough, but it’s a wildlife programme of sorts.

Busy sniffing the sofa leg, Harry looks up and starts barking at the screen.

‘Not a fan?’ I keep scrolling. ‘The news?’

Harry begins howling.

But honestly, who can blame him? That’s mostly how I feel these days when I watch the news. I quickly turn the channel over.

‘OK, how about a movie?’

As I put on Netflix I’m reminded of when David and I would do a film night at the weekend. After a hard week at work I used to love ordering a takeaway, opening a bottle of wine, snuggling up on the sofa . . . Tears prickle my eyelashes and I blink them back furiously. I can’t start crying in front of Harry.

But it’s too late. He looks at me and starts whining again, and as the music swells and the title credits roll, he resumes his pacing. Despair beats. I’ve tried everything but I can’t get him to settle. He’s going round and round in circles.

Just like you did when David first left.

My mind suddenly casts itself backwards and, remembering the tears and snot and desperation, I wince at the memory. I was pitiful. Pathetic, really. But at the time I didn’t care. Shock and heartache do that to you. Pride doesn’t get a look-in. For weeks I was in a daze. Pacing up and down, stomach churning, my mind going round in circles. Disbelief congealing into devastation that we were over, and we could never go back.

I don’t believe it. Harry’s lain down.

I stare at him in astonishment. I was so distracted by my thoughts that I didn’t notice him lie down on the rug. Stiffly curling his big, black body into a circle, he tucks his long legs underneath him and buries his grey muzzle into his tail. After a few moments I hear his breathing deepen and he begins to snore.

Watching him sleeping, I feel a sense of relief. More than that, I feel a glimmer of hope. Discovering my husband was in love with someone else broke my heart, but it was the betrayal of my trust in him that truly broke me. But if this scared, defenceless dog can trust me, after everything he’s been through, then maybe one day I’ll be able to trust someone again too.

Valentine

Every morning he had a routine. That’s the first thing everyone tells you when you retire. Apparently it’s very important.

‘You must keep up a routine, Mr Crowther,’ his GP had warned him when Valentine went to see him about his waterworks, though to be honest, he wasn’t sure what a routine had to do with having to get up half a dozen times in the night to pee.