I’m going out on Saturday and will be staying away from home until Sunday afternoon. This is great, actually. The purpose for me being a dirty stop-out is a visit to the Sapphic Valley that is home to the hippy lesbian enclave of Hebden Bridge – or Valley of the Vag, as it’s become known – to celebrate a 40th birthday. What with one thing and another, it’s wiser to stay over at my friend’s place than to drive back a) late, or b) pissed out of my head.

Fun times will be had, but not by the little dog: it’s just not practical to take him over there on this occasion.

He’s burnt his bridges as far as staying at his auntie’s goes. Besides, it’s far too dangerous for him to stay there unprotected with killer Skippy waiting to get him. He’s too bouncy for my folks to look after him for any more than a few hours, and an overnight stay there is out of the question. I was going to phone the local boarding kennels tomorrow to book him in there, but a lightbulb moment illuminated my thinking and I thought: “Alan!”

Rocky gets on well with just about everybody, most people like him, even my dog-hating brother, so I gave it a go. He agreed! It’s going to be interesting for them all because of Molly, the little cat, but it’ll be fine. I can tell that my brother is taking this responsibility very seriously, there have been a number of text messages going between the two of us to iron out the plan with military precision.

“Will you bring food?”
“Yes.”

“Does he have his own bed?”
“Yes, but he prefers to sleep with humans and have a cuddle.”

“Molly sleeps with me! And Jane’s just changed the bedding, she doesn’t even like the cat being on there.”
“I’ll bath him and bring his blankie to put on the bed, he doesn’t moult.”

“What time will you bring him?”
“How about I drop him off at mum’s and you pick him up from there?”

Other tips: take his collar off; let him sleep on the bed; ignore his snoring; when he wakes up, he WILL need a wee, so be prepared to get up sharpish to let him out.

Actually, I’ve noticed that he’s not snoring now that I’ve started sleeping with the window open again. Hmmm. What with his snoring and my sinus problems, maybe there’s something toxic in here that’s asphyxiating us. Perhaps we’re just asphyxiating each other.

It’s that special time in his sleep cycle when he starts dreaming. His breaths sharpen, his toes start twitching. Any minute now he’s going to start running and barking (in his dreams), this will be manifested with little whimpers and excessive movement of all his feet. Here we go! I wonder if I do the same.