The heavy rain pelting against the window at dawn’s first light had had Dog’s Mistress scurrying around in the kitchen cupboards for waterproofs, umbrella and boots, before heading out the door. ‘Later, Dog, when Master wakes’, she had said.
Dog had settled back down in his basket with its well-worn blankets, head resting on outstretched paws. After an hour, with day’s light increasing and the rain easing back from its earlier intensity, Dog had heard his Master moving around upstairs. Five minutes and then outdoor time he had thought.
Standing, he had stretched in anticipation of a gloriously muddy walk, when he heard an abrupt screech, followed by a tumbling and crashing before a final thud as his Master’s head hit the small table in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.
Dog had skittered along the linoleum flooring and had found his Master slumped in a heap, his head at an unnatural angle, unseeing eyes staring fruitlessly.
Dog had nudged against his Master’s sprawled form. Nothing. No response or sound had come from Master despite Dog’s frantic pawing.
Whining softly, Dog sat beside his Master and began the long wait for his Mistress to come home.