Liberation

I'm feeling elated, and not just because of the peach of a day. I left the boy alone for two hours while I went to the hairdressers, the third time I've done it, and he was fine. He was fine! I never thought I would write those words. I can't even begin to convey how liberating this feels, for him as well as me. Now he doesn't always have to sit in the back of the car while I do Waitrose, or the garden centre, and then pant all over me with his horrible breath and cry all the way home. I might even be able to build up to a cinema visit, or a short ushering at Snape. It's taken eight months but now he feels reasonably secure on his own, though I get a rapturous reception when I get home. The experts say you should minimise the fuss when you return, get them to think it's nothing special when they stay on their own for a long time, but I don't agree. He and I both know it's a big deal, and I refuse to downplay his achievement. I suppose that no dog wants to be left alone, and that's where I've come unstuck in the past. If he didn't like something I thought he shouldn't have to do it. But I can't restrict my life like that, and he's showing me that he can do it. He's lying beside me on the sofa now with his head and paws on my lap, staking his claim. And that's just fine by me. He's my big boy.

I took this photo of the wisteria on the front of the house this morning, the leaves burnished gold and tenacious. I don't remember them lasting so long before. Funny to think that in just over four months they'll be starting the cycle again, fresh green pricking through the old stems. That's really not long to wait. Hope springs eternal.