Chapter FiftyRoscoe doesn’t like fireworks. Even as a puppy, he’d squeal and hide under the sofa as they exploded outside the house. I used to keep him wrapped up beside me in Dad’s hoodie, protecting him, keeping him safe. The feel of his little warm body pressed against me used to give me a sense of purpose, of responsibility. Even when he grew too big for the hoodie and would try and scare the fireworks off with his barks, he’d still stay snuggled up beside me.
We left him at home last year, though that didn’t go down well; he drove the neighbours crazy because the knock-out meds didn’t work. This year, he’s gone to Gran and Grandad’s. They live on a farm pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so they shouldn’t have any trouble with him there. After last Bonfire Night, it was suggested
