Wherever Fido went my little sister went too. Faithfully holding on as he bumped and rolled his way around the garden, the house, the pavement.
Not once did he look back to check she was ok. And she never questioned his direction, simply following along like a puppy on a lead.
The day she followed him off the pavement and onto the road was the day my mother decided Fido had to go.
Year’s later here he is, forlornly sitting in the junk shop window waiting for his playmate to come back and rescue him.
I walk in, pick him up and take him home to my child who follows his bumpy, rolling trek around a new territory called ‘home’.