25
The next day I woke early with the sun streaming through a gap in my curtains and Poppy snuffling at the back of my neck. Laughing, I pushed her away and she jumped off the bed and bounded to the door, whimpering at me to hurry up. There was a day outside waiting to be explored. Opening the curtains, I gazed down at my back garden. What I could see over the fence in Richard’s garden looked neat and well-cultivated, compared to the overgrown tangle on my own property where, despite all my efforts, weeds flourished in the borders and the grass was riddled with moss and clover and pitted with holes where Poppy had dug for insects or buried chew toys. She enjoyed sniffing around the daisies and bright buttercups, and I quite liked them, and I didn’t object to her occasionally digging up th
