His hair is dark blond with natural highlights, and his cheeks are clothed in stubble. He’s roughly the same age as me and married to one of mine and Emily’s friends, Tessa. Maz, who reminds me of how I look when I’ve been on my feet all night, invites us both through to the kennels to see the dog. ‘So she’s made it so far,’ I say. ‘More than that,’ Maz smiles. ‘She’s on her feet.’ ‘Shouldn’t that be on her paws?’ Jack says cheerfully. Frosty is bumping into the bars of her cage with a huge, lampshade-like Elizabethan collar around her neck. ‘What’s she wearing that for?’ I ask, feeling more upset than I thought I would be at seeing her confined. ‘It’s for her own good,’ Maz says. ‘She chewed through her drip tubing during the night.’ ‘I’m glad my ladies don’t do that kind of thing.’ Amused, I lean down towards the cage, but not too close. ‘Hi, Frosty.’ It takes her a few seconds to respond to my presence, but when she does, she gives a squeak of delight, which cuts through my wary reserve and brings tears springing to my eyes.
