Old Pal

He made me think of the ancient Egyptian god Anubis with his long pointed snout and pointed ears. But Miriam named him Pal on account of the tins of dog food she bought him together with a bowl. He’d come sniffing around on our first day at the beach and he’d filled out nicely in the last few days. And while Debbie and I frolicked in the sea, Miriam sat on the beach in her spot of shade, plump legs stuck out, red where the sun had briefly touched them, with Pal by her side.

Night came quickly in those latitudes. Across the Bay, the darkening outline of Basse Terre ended with the blip of one small island, and back on the beach Pal was settling down next to his bowl. He’d be waiting in the morning.

‘Hurry up!’ Debbie called to her sister. ‘We’ve still got all the packing to do.’ We were off again first thing tomorrow.

I pressed Miriam’s hand and whispered, ‘He’ll be alright.’