My mother kept a chameleon instead of a dog and when I was at school it did the job of passing notes to my father. It was very clever at appearing anywhere around the house – hanging by its tail from the curtain pole, materialising suddenly from the pattern of the armchair. The quickness of its eyes meant he never got away, and when its elastic tongue delivered the message somewhere between temple and cheek, it would always come with the clatter of pans from down the hall, or the angry whiz of a blender.
HELEN IVORY