Tonight is my last night at the vicarage, it’s my last night being mummy to a gorgeous black Labrador.

Its been a really hard fortnight. Starting after a week off sick with antidepressant withdrawal and while my parents were visiting. The dog immediately setting off my asthma so my peak flows were at 50% meaning i went from no asthma medications straight to a blue and brown inhaler and oral steroids!!

I’ve felt low, I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been in tears. I’ve felt well and truly unwell. Plenty of time lying on the sofa in front of the TV.

My workplace has moved offices and my car wouldn’t start. The alarm has gone off while i was out. I’ve rescued kids from A&E when their mum needed treatment, occupying them and feeding them. I’ve driven to the neighbouring city (about 20 miles and a journey I’ve only done once before). I’ve been cooked dinners and cooked for others. I’ve learnt to make scones. I’ve had a pay rise.

I’ve woken up to the dogs timetable, scared head would soil the cage. I’ve dealt with his ‘accident’ following munching too many apples. I’ve picked up poo and observed his toileting habits. I’ve given him his meals and played with him in the garden. He’s sat on my feet and wagged his tail against my legs.

Now in the last 24 hours, I’ve filled the fridge, hoovered and started to clean. Tomorrow I will make their dinner, clean and washing my bedding. I’m scared it won’t be clean enough, that I’ll put things in the wrong place, have eaten something i shouldn’t have and that they’ll still be able to feel dog hair on the floor. Then I’ll disappear before they arrive, aware that they don’t really want other people in their home, their private space and that i was the only option left to look after the dog. The last resort.