I left the house at 7.20 a.m. It was dark, not even a hint of dawn, but it was mild.
I had heard raven calls a good hour before I left, and later there were robins singing their hearts out.
This was a difficult walk, my heart was heavy. I walked all round Llandaff Fields, not our usual routes but combining the two. I needed to say good-bye, for Madame Dog, to all her favourite places.
I had brought scraps for the ravens, but as I walked into the ravens field from the far end, coming from the little arboretum, I was not looking out for the ravens. I walked all along the fence and wall, bordering the allotments at the top of the ravens field - that was where we played all those summers, first with Big Dog, then just Madame and me.
The bold raven came as I approached the enclosure - he was not sure about me, because not only did I come from a different direction, I also was on my own.
He had watched me from one of the big maples along the wall.
So I threw some scraps - and his companion came as well. I told them that Madame had died, and that she would never bark at them, chase them, or stare at them ever again.
As I went to the big field, Bas and Karen turned up - Bas running joyfully towards me. I told Karen that Madame Dog had died. We separated at the spinney, and I went back into the ravens field, crying and feeding the ravens.
They followed me back into the big field, the bold raven walking behind me, cawing loudly. As I threw scraps for him and his companion, the quarry pair also turned up, making quorking sounds behind my back. When I turned round, they both were displaying that juvenile begging posture.
When all the scraps had gone, I went back, lonely and sad, but determined not to forsake the ravens.
