She even snapped her fingers, but the dachshund wasn’t moving. She had pulled up her upper lip and snarled as if there was a threat nearby. But Guinevere didn’t see a soul. No dog, no human.
Not Jago either.
Usually he went home early in the morning when the fishing was done. Why had he stayed here?
‘Dolly! Come to me.’ She sat on her haunches, holding out her hand.
The dachshund came skulking low, pressing herself close to Guinevere’s leg. Guinevere patted her. ‘Hey, are you not feeling well? Did you hurt yourself somehow?’
Maybe her wild antics had been too much this time?
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