“Come on, come on, we’re late, let’s get a move on” his voice flared my way.  It was his manner, he could never say a thing only once, my slowness spawned his impatience. He meant no harm…really.

I was doing my limited best these days, catching up to him as best I could but it wasn’t enough. The breath rasped in my throat, my tongue swollen and dryly large over my teeth.

It had been different years ago when we had been a team, partners in pursuit of happiness, one goal, one with another. We loved the country, walked and all the talk I could hear and more. He loved me and everything I did. His hands were rarely off me. I had class, breeding, he said - a beauty among mere also-rans. And I loved him so. Nothing was enough and enough was never the end. We drove ourselves to exhaustion on those days out.

But time is a cruel master. I’d wanted little ones but he thought we couldn’t afford them so I’d had the operation. Now I was old and barren and…slow. I couldn’t keep up with him, nor with his demands and the days out in our beloved country were less and less and shorter still. But given half a chance I’d take the lead and stride off into a distance that now was never far away. Me and my heart leapt at the chance.

Then we stopped walking. It was how we’d met, how I’d strayed into his path all those years back. I’d loved his voice straight off. By the end of the afternoon that cold day I glowed beneath my winter coat. I knew right then.

I missed our time together. Now all I did was lie on the sofa in front of the television all day, getting sicker still. He had to bring me my food. Even that I could hardly touch. It broke my heart but I never said a thing.

Until at last he helped me into the car. We went a slightly different route this time. I vaguely recognised it from before when I’d had the op. I’d been so ill afterwards. I got scared. I lay flat out on the back seat and looked at him askance. He was going to make sure I got well. I was certain. I was filled with hope and the breath almost wheezed from me.

He struggled to get me into Reception. The light was bright and the faces kindly though I was too weak to make a sound. He stroked my neck. He hadn’t done that for a while and stopped as a woman, I think though my eyesight was blurry now, approached and patted my shoulder saying to me “There, there” and to him “The vet will see you now”.

Funny, he looked like he was about to cry.