From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 80)

I’ve just had to give up one of my favourite Argyll socks to Jack. This has left me with a solitary sock from the pair. I took it from the drawer, with the intention of disposing of it, when I was struck by a rather deep and disturbing thought.  A realisation came over me that there are occasions when a solo item, or even a person, is not nearly as useful as when part of a pair. The latter is a revelation that has turned my life slowly, but relentlessly, upside down and inside out. I do not refer to Griffin.

I told Alice of my sock loss in our daily telephone conversation. She merely suggested that I mix things up and wear odd socks on occasion, even if I was only daring enough to do so in the privacy my own home. I didn’t respond. I am much better these days at spotting when she is trying to tease me. She does it mainly as a distraction. Occasionally, I suspect it is only for her own dark amusement. But, either way, rather than flying into a snit, I have trained myself to focus on what she is trying to distract my attention from. With anyone else this would be second nature to me, but with Alice I have a blind spot.

I suppose the same goes for Jack. He got some kind of minor lesion on his paw, and according to Griffin, had made it worse my licking it. Griffin sorted out some canine medication for the poor creature, but we needed him to stop licking his paw. Hence the sacrifice of my sock.

He allowed Griffin to medicate him, but only I was allowed to manipulate the sock over his paw. Griffin did try, and I’m certain the bite will heal quickly enough. It wasn’t deep and it certainly didn’t merit a grown man yowling so much. It quite frightened Jack, who I had to coax out from under the settee with cheese. Cheese that I had rather hoped to have in my breakfast omelette tomorrow. Still, couldn’t have him licking at the cut again, could I?

He looked at me with deep trust (Jack, of course, not Griffin) as he chewed his cheese, and I affixed the sock. The kind of trust that makes owning a dog so deeply satisfying. I can count on one hand the number of people who trust me so - and those I trust in return are even less in number. When one is wounded and vulnerable, as was my poor Jack, it is generally the time to retreat and hide oneself.

Working alone in the field has previously made me respond like Jack. One time I was shot, and I had to patch myself up and stay out of sight for three days. It hurt like hell digging the bullet out, but I only drank half the whisky and poured the other half in into the hole in my shoulder. I knew full well that developing an infection, on a solo assignment in enemy territory, would be my death knell. Still, I swear it took more will power not to drink all the whisky than it took to dig the bullet out.

Being injured in Alice’s company has always been less risky. Even if it’s usually her fault I got injured in the first place. She will put herself in danger! She is a competent field medic, and well able to keep me alive. Although, I admit, for a long time I behaved towards her much as Jack recently behaved towards Griffin. I don’t recall ever actually biting her, but the idea of someone touching me when I feel vulnerable always puts my hackles up.

Anyway, I have decided to tell Griffin to stuff the other sock with something and turn it into a toy for Jack. He deserves it. I shall have a whisky and mull over what Alice is trying to distract me from this time. Naughty girl!