Flossie witnesses my middle age brain fog on a regular basis. I like to think she’s non-judgemental, but I’m not entirely sure.
The other day, I found myself searching for her outside. I have a tiny garden, so it’s not difficult to see whether she’s in it, or not. Usually, I can see her clearly from the kitchen window, but this time, I could not.
So, I opened the back door and looked around, thinking she might have gone behind some shrubbery.
There was no sign.
I came back inside feeling puzzled and hoping she hadn’t somehow escaped (albeit through a locked gate) to the front of the house.
As I walked to the front door, I saw her.
She was lying on the rug in the living room, fast asleep.
I had already let her in from the garden.
This reminded me of an incident at our old house. When I took her out for walks we used to leave the house via the back door and go through the garden.
On this occasion, I carefully locked the back door and looked around for Flossie so I could put on her lead. The garden was bigger than my current one so she wasn’t immediately on view.
I called her name. There was silence. I started walking around, not unduly bothered. I knew she sometimes liked to explore under the hedge so I walked along it, thinking she would emerge from the undergrowth. She didn’t.
This was very strange.
I spent several minutes wandering around the garden, calling for her.
I started to feel a little concerned although, rationally, I knew she couldn’t have got out..
And then it dawned on me.
I walked back to the house and unlocked the back door.
Flossie was standing behind it, patiently waiting for me.
If she could have raised an eyebrow, she would have.
As seen in the Bath Chronicle, 25 April 2024
Suzy Pope is a certified copywriter and newspaper columnist specialising in pets, business and lifestyle. If you would like help with a writing project, please get in touch.
