I bound from the car and, nose to the ground, zig-zag around the front lawn of my new home. I hoover up downy feathers that stick to my wet nose and I sneeze, sending the feathers flying. As a pup, I once tore a cushion to shreds searching for the duck inside. I found loads of feathers but never found the duck. I’m still searching. Can’t be that many naked ducks about.
‘So, what do you think?’ Rose asks, smiling.
What do I think? I think those bitter white tablets the vet gave me were worth it after all. I can’t feel my stitches and my paws seem to float above the grass as if I’m dreaming. I run over to Rose, tail wagging like a windscreen wiper in a downpour, and lick her hand. After being cooped up in a cage at the vet’s, I need the wind in my fur, big time. So I charge up and down, leaning into each turn like a motorcycle at Brands Hatch, almost tripping over a faded
