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We were out on our first walk of the day. Poppy trotted along beside me, pausing to sniff the air. It was chilly, but the worst of the cold weather was behind us and everywhere I looked there were signs of spring. The grass that led down towards the river was sparkling with dew. Dotted with daisies and a few wild crocuses that showed purple and yellow against the greensward, it was bordered by bright daffodils that quivered in a slight breeze. From time to time, Poppy launched an attack on some creature invisible to me, or stopped and began digging furiously in the ground. When that happened, I had to pull on her lead, calling to her to walk on; she could be very single-minded when burrowing for worms and beetles. She was so keen to dig up earth that it seemed unkind to thwart her insti
