The dog is on a ferry to France, I think, and if this isn't true, I have always associated it with a holiday in Normandy with mum and the children.
I'd booked us into a rambling old mansion outside Le Havre, where I had long conversations about Maupassant and there were calves in a barn.
On a day out we got lost among the refineries but on another, found St Joseph's Church with its stained glass by Marguerite Huré. It is sometimes described as a kaleidescope. I still remember the light.
My brother was killed in an accident earlier that summer. In a corner of the attic, where we slept, was a pencil message from a man who hid there during WW2, and survived.
Perhaps it's that and the stained glass coloured light which have attached themselves to this dog above my head, looking into the distance, which I have my back to.
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