Michael and I walk up to Holland Park. The loop is filled with dogs of all varieties. I tell the lady with the heart-shaped patent leather purse and the woman with the miniature Lassie type collie that Indie has died. They say they’re sorry. And they ask if I’m getting another dog. I nod my head yes. They both suggest that I look for a smaller dog, a mixed breed maybe. The woman with the collie recommends that we go to a dog show at Olympia later in the fall to check out the different varieties.
Charles arrives with his beagle, a yorkie and Louie,a black toy poodle. We all walk towards Kensington High Street. Charles tells us that Louie is so smart and devoted that he would tie his shoes for him if he could. Surrounded by dogs big and small, we agree that this section of Holland Park is as good as any dog show.
Michael and I go to Phillies and think about ordering toast but decide against it. A long-haired dachshund puppy named Alfie sits near my feet.I pet him and he gazes at with huge, tolerant eyes.
I miss Indie.
This will be the last entry. I have loved walking and writing through changing seasons, meeting people and dogs along the way with my beloved companion. Indie showed me how to live in the moment. A dog is not thinking about the past or the future, he’s just getting on with his day.
Thank you for all the words of kindness and condolence which have meant so much.
Most of all thank you for joining Indie and me.
A Year In Holland Park 