rel="nofollow" href="#u333944f9-d0c0-598a-9f12-6fc1f8b65afe">AMY
Saturday 14th December
The thing about humans is, they take an awful lot of looking after. Oh, I’m not saying that they’re not worth it. Just that, really, without us dogs, I don’t know what would happen to them.
Take my family, for example. The Walkers.
Ever since I arrived here as a puppy, it had always been the five of us. (Okay, six, if you include The Cat. I don’t, generally.) Jim, Amy, Jack, Claire and Me: Henry. (Fine, and Sookie. If you must.)
That is, until Bonfire Night, five weeks ago. (I remembered the date clearly, because it all happened in amongst the bangs and the flashes.) I was hiding under the chair in Jim and Amy’s bedroom (like any sane creature would be on Bonfire Night) so I saw Jim shoving clothes and things into his bag. And I heard Amy sobbing, asking Jim why.
Sometimes, I think maybe she didn’t understand what was going on any better than I did.
All I knew for sure was that Jim left that night, and he hasn’t really been back much since. This wasn’t like when he went out to work and I missed him, or even when they all went on holiday and left me at the kennels.
This was different. And I didn’t like it one bit.
After Jim had left, I’d curled up beside Amy as she cried herself to sleep on the bed. It was only after her sobs had subsided and I was sure that she was asleep that I risked jumping down to check on the others. Jack and Claire were both still outside, watching the fireworks
