I think dogs do know – at least some of them – when we are going away. Red knows, he sees the baggage and then goes onto his bed in my study and sits there, ears up, watching and waiting to see if he is coming. If he doesn’t get the call, he lowers his head and is still. Fate crawls between my legs and then rushes to the door, as if to say “of course I’m coming, I’m here, ready to go.”

It is not really hard for me to leave the dogs. Once I’m in the care, I forget them, we have the benefit of a wonderful pet and farm sitter, she moves right into the house, and everybody curls up and snuggles in the cold. Not a bad life for any dog. I never make a big deal of leaving, no elaborate goodbyes or transmission of anxiety. Just another part of life.

Buy they do know, even if they don’t care all that much once we are out of sight. Dogs mirror us, they reflect us. They are as crazy as we are, or as sane.