Sometimes, these cold March days when the wind comes from the north east, and rain arrives, some afternoons I find myself laid out on my sofa with two dogs along side me, my arm over the faithful Kali (who has never been so affectionate), and at my feet or at a safe distance from the alpha male, is Bobji, lighter, restless, elastic, her small form nestled in to mine. I hold her paw that will one day become as rough as Kali’s leather pads, but now still soft and pink. I hold her face my hand. Her affection is to bite me. Like a child, I would imagine, i treasure her small form, knowing it will pass; delight in our game playing, knowing that it too will slow.
Once I carried an embryo. I remember bleeding it out in the downstairs loo of Clarendon Lodge. Bob wanted us to adopt after that. Why did I shy away from that thought? Forever fearful of committment. But here I am, with two bundles of joy.