In Dogs We Trust

It seemed like it had only been a few years ago that Indigo, our black Lab, had first barged through our door. Her underbelly showed the signs of the litter she’d recently delivered, and between the wise, droopy face and the swinging dog teats, she was a sight to behold.

She had a nose for trouble. On one occasion, I had come home to find that she’d eaten a five-pound bag of flour. She was covered in white powder, and flour paw prints were everywhere, including, incredibly, on the countertops. I asked the dog what the hell had happened, and Indy just looked at me with a glance that said, I cannot imagine what you are referring to.

Time raced by. Our children grew up and went off to university. The mirror, which had reflected a young mum when Indigo first arrived, now showed a woman in late middle age. I had surgery for cataracts. I