The dog knew she was dying.

He lay at her side enveloped in the stink of her rotting body, listening to the whistle of her laboured breathing, focusing on the occasional words she muttered softly, not “Walks” or “Supper” or “Treats”, only the names of her children and dead husband.

After many jobs and several careers, Linda White lives in a little village with her dog and lizard, and rides her horse for mental health.