licking my face for the first time in a year.Stringerbelle and I spend a fortnight snuggled in the country. I am angry she hasn’t been flea treated, despite asking the ex to do it before I picked her up.
She gets a tic and I have to take her to the vet, swearing about the ex in my head. I’m swearing at him again as I head into London frustrated that I have to do all the travelling.While I’m on the train, my friend Martin texts: ‘What you doing?’ ‘Heading to London to return the dog,’ I reply. ‘What!
Are you OK?’ he worries. I tell him I’m fine. Although I hadn’t quite clocked that this is the first time I’ll see my ex in person since I left him a year ago.‘You can’t go alone,’ insists Martin.
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