January 6, 1554

Alas, one little thimble died last night just after we came back from the midnight banquet for Twelfth Night. To think that while we were dancing and listening to minstrels and watching jugglers, the little pup was gasping his last. We are planning a funeral. How sad – my second entertainment as head of my own household is to be a funeral. I sent word to Father Confessor Mamerot to meet us in Les Champs du Repos, the pet cemetery here at Blois.