The sky darkens to disclose my mood. The rain falls as tears to the ground. That flash of lightning is a fracturing of desire – and the thunder, if not a giant going upstairs, is a giant turmoil in the depths of my soul. I explain all this to Daisy, who is curled up in a ball on the sofa, as a storm passes by outside. Do you expect that to be of comfort? asks Daisy, peeking out from beneath a paw. Might we not say, she continues, that the thunder is the growl of a dog disappointed to be walking in a landscape made up of someone else’s feelings? Goodness! I exclaim, what a wonderful idea! Daisy delivers a snort. You would think that! she says. And with that the sky dog breaks into an ever more complex series of snorts and snuffles, revealing emotions that I am unable to recognise.