Em.

I’ve said often enough that I consider regret to be pointless and I still hold to the view, but there are times when it’s not so easy to let it go.

I once had a dog, you see, a lovely Border Collie called Em who loved me constantly and unconditionally. And I loved her back, but sometimes I got it wrong – remonstrating with her for things that weren’t her fault because I was too pig-headed to see beyond the obvious. I tried to control her because I was immature enough to believe that dogs are there to be controlled. And now I know that dogs are there to be loved with all the allowances and understanding that go with it, I can’t do anything about it. She died aged 4½ of a malignant tumour and it broke my heart. More importantly perhaps, or perhaps not, I bitterly regretted every cross word I ever aimed at her, and I still do.

And that’s why I hold to a fond dream that when I die she will be there waiting for me. We can tramp the lanes and fields again, she can chase after rabbits in the wood which was her favourite activity, and she can sleep close to me instead of being confined to a cold kitchen while I’m tucked up in a warm bed. I don’t care that it’s a silly dream. I like it.

Have I said all this before on the blog? I expect I probably have. But I think about her often; I feel that we missed so much and have a lot of catching up to do. The need to put it right is very strong in me, and saying so helps just a little.